Forged in Gray Ashes
by Porcelain Fish
Summary: M/M. Implied M/F and F/F. Rated M for explicit content and violence. OC's, with only passing references to the cannon characters. A harsh world forges harsh champions that burn with the same bitter flame. Pragmatism is the order of the day for a sorcerer missing a few hang-ups.
1. Chapter 1: The Argument & The Malice

**Author's Notes: Please be aware that the content of this story is different from my other two (non-gratuitous-smut) stories. Some of the main characters' action** **s** **are morally ambiguous (or even just amoral). I didn't necessarily set out to write them that way, but that seems to be the way they turned out. You've been warned.**

 **I don't own Grimgar. The following work is merely fanfiction. I own nothing. Credit goes to Grimgar's creators.**

 **As always, constructive criticism is especially welcome – if you see errors, typos, plot holes, or something stupid, please let me know. Also, like everyone else, I thrive on reviews, so please leave one even if it's just to express what you like/dislike.**

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Chapter 1

The Argument And The Malice

"Maybe . . . you'd be better off as a Priest, Felicia," Yedani said hesitantly.

Ira almost snorted. He didn't know the girl, didn't know __much__ , but he could already tell that he didn't like Felicia. It wasn't that she was necessarily objectionable for her personality, although that wasn't anything to shout for joy over, so much as . . . the way she was self-absorbed. Only, it wasn't even that by itself that irritated him. She expected others to be equally absorbed in her. She talked without having all that much to say, and while he sympathized somewhat with the dull fear in her brown animal eyes, the way they shifted uneasily in her dark chocolate face, she was beginning to get on his nerves.

"Well, we already got a Priest." Felicia gestured broadly with both hands at Soong.

Soong looked back at her uncertainly, brushing straight jet-black hair out of her dark eyes, pale, almost porcelain features uneasy, almond-shaped eyes darting briefly away before scanning the rest of the group of relative strangers. "I don't think we've settled it yet, so if you wanted-"

"No, I __don't__ want," Felicia interjected, holding up her hands palms-out. "I really don't."

"It . . . couldn't hurt to have two." Mikhev half-shrugged, folding his arms. The sunlight gleamed in his short, platinum hair, blue eyes going briefly to Felicia before returning to looking pretty much anywhere else. "You just don't seem like you're really the fighter type."

"Oh don't y'all worry 'bout me," Felicia rocked slightly back on her heels, arms sweeping around in another broad gesture before she pointed to herself. "I _am_ a fighter. Y'all best believe it. But I can't be responsible for y'all. I got's to worry 'bout me." She shifted her weight in an odd sort of sway. "I don't be tellin' y'all what y'all should be doin'."

Truth be told, she did have rather long arms and large hands and long legs, moving with a gangly, rolling sort of lope in her stride, the length of her gangly limbs giving her a notable amount of reach. Perhaps there was something to what she was saying, except she didn't seem all that coordinated, and Ira could see his own misgivings reflected in the gazes of the others.

Yedani for one, petite Yedani with her raven hair, dusky complected cream-colored skin, and night-black eyes, looked particularly worried. She hadn't said much, but she struck Ira as decidedly thoughtful and reasonably intelligent. Yedani had volunteered to be their Thief. She was almost completely Felicia's opposite, compact, every motion graceful.

Mikhev was compact in a different way, his body thick, though noticeably muscular rather than fat, of a height with Ira and nearly as deft in his movements as Yedani. No one had looked even mildly surprised when he said he'd take the Warrior job as his own.

While Kanoha resembled Soong to an extent in eye-shape, and hair, he was a little taller even than Ira, jet hair short, coppery facial features broader and more pronounced, cheekbones higher, eyes further forward rather than deep set. He was athletic, if not as muscular as Mikhev, and he'd taken the job of Hunter. Both he and Panashri had yet to voice an opinion.

Much as Kanoha and Soong shared a similar aspect, Panashri resembled Kanoha somewhat in complexion, if a little more brown than copper, and the color of her hair, but she was willowy and full-figured, eyes closer in shape to Ira's and a lighter shade of brown than even Felicia's. She'd quietly taken the role of Mage.

"You ain't chose a job yet, Ira," Felicia said, making another one of those open-handed gestures toward him. Ira had to resist the urge to bristle. "What you gonna be?"

"I just haven't said yet. I've picked Sorcerer," Ira said plainly, very nearly crossing his arms before he thought better of it, changing the motion into adjusting his collar.

"Don't you have to have some kind of emotion for that?" Felicia asked baldly with a vague, almost snatching sort of gesture, shifting her weight from one foot back to the other again.

Ira had to resist the urge to __show__ her that emotion by throttling her and slamming her head against the paving stones a few times. If she noticed the growing malice in his gaze, it didn't show. She just continued to stare at him with those dumb animal eyes.

There were several jobs remaining on the list that no one had yet taken – namely Dark Knight, except he wasn't really inclined to run around swinging a sword, and his soft body didn't suggest that such an occupation would come naturally to him. Similarly, Martial Artist, Druid, Knight, Barbarian, and Samurai held little appeal.

The description of Mentalist called for a serene, contemplative nature given to the abstract, and Warlock involved a pact with a demon master, neither of which Ira even wanted to entertain the idea of. The only other job was Bard, but it struck Ira as a little on the insipid side.

Sorcerer, on the other hand, called for the channeling of feelings into power. At the moment, irritation with Felicia was providing a very ample supply.

"It doesn't seem to me that it will be an issue," Kanoha said suddenly.

"You know what? I'ma get back with y'all." Felicia held up her hands in that same large, open gesture that didn't seem so much an attempt at placation as warding off pressure before putting them on her wide hips. "I'll let y'all know when _ _I__ have made a __selection__." The emphasis and tone seemed to indicate that she felt the decision was one that would be made without anyone else's input.

It wasn't so much that implication that bothered Ira as the implicit suggestion that everyone else's opinion had no value.

"We'll meet back here in seven days, then, once our training is complete," he said crisply, in no mood to endure her presence any longer than necessary. "Bri said we have to figure things out on our own. That means ask questions of everyone about everything. Gather all the information you can."

"How is that figuring stuff out on our own?" Felicia had the nerve to ask.

Ira had to focus just on keeping his features composed for a moment before he could even speak. " _ _You__ don't have to," he said simply and evenly, looking directly at her before turning and walking away.

The Sorcerer's Guild was built into the side of a hill, innumerable pale limestone columns holding up a portico, the vaulted, distant ceiling carved in relief with creatures that were half-beast, half-elemental giving entry to a high-ceilinged hall with friezes of more of the same.

His teacher wasn't exactly what Ira had been expecting. He'd assumed it would be someone like himself, average in height, outwardly statuesque and composed, everything channeled within. Instead it was a big man, long-limbed and decidedly rangy, a grin on his broad features, brown hair starting to gray at the temples over green eyes. He didn't look like the sort to maintain a ready reservoir of powerful emotion kept carefully in check. He looked like the jovial kind of guy one might find at a bar after work, easygoing and carefree.

His eyebrows rose slightly as Ira approached, smile taking on a slight hint of what could have been amusement or bemusement or a combination of both.

"I can see you've come to the right place," he said as he straightened from his chair.

Ira had been hoping that Felicia wouldn't show at the end of the seven day initial training period, that she might have fallen and broken something and died or at least become an invalid.

He had no such luck.

She was there when he arrived, talking to Yedani and Panashri about something, making those large gestures, probably audible for an ungodly distance. Kanoha stood a little ways away, Soong and Mikhev similarly just a little distant from the others.

Yedani's long gray skirt and long-sleeved black shirt had been replaced by sensible dull-green pants, ankle-boots, a brown tunic, and a sand-colored shoulder-cloak. Two belts full of pouches were wrapped around her hips, long knives strapped to her thighs. Her green headscarf was no longer wrapped around her head all the way down to her chin, but now tied around her hair.

Panashri still wore the loose billowy pants she'd had on before, but her top was now pale red and long-sleeved, with a high-collar and brown wooden buttons down the right side of her front. Her shoes had been replaced with calf-high black boots, and there was a knobby, not-quite-straight staff cradled in her right arm. She'd braided her hair, and it fell halfway down her back, secured with a leather thong.

Soong's top was similar in cut, only white, with clips instead of buttons, still wearing the fitted jeans she'd arrived in, soft brown boots laced up to her knees, black hair tied back with a blue ribbon, what looked like a flanged bronze mace hanging from the loop on her belt.

Kanoha's loose, thigh-length tunic was a patchwork of soft brown and green squares, dull brown undersleeves embracing his biceps down to his forearms, faded green hose clinging to his muscular thighs and calves in a way that suggested that there was little left to the imagination beneath the tunic's hem, boots laced up to just above his ankles. The leather harness across his shoulders held the scabbard of his long knife across his chest with a leather loop over the cross-guard guard keeping it in place and a long, unstrung bow at his back. The straps looped around his belt held his capped quiver at an accessible angle with the mouth above the back of his right hip.

Mikhev had on a thick, padded tunic with a collar right up to the top of his neck, a gray breastplate with a few scratches and dents across his broad chest, chainmail hanging underneath it down to his hips, thick rigid leather with bolts showing through it girding his thighs, lobstered plates that looked as used as the breastplate sewn to boots that came up to just below his knees. Like Kanoha, he wore a leather harness, only it held a broad-bladed sword with a flat cross-guard and a large, single-headed axe across his back. It took an effort to no more than glance at the large, mismatched bronze codpiece over his crotch.

Ira had opted to keep the thick, dark green coat and loose-fitting jeans he'd arrived in, but reluctantly traded in his thin t-shirt for a much sturdier gray tunic and his impractical sneakers and ankle-socks for thick stockings and durable boots more or less identical to Kanoha's.

Felicia's hip-length navy jacket and buttery blouse had been replaced with a thick, plain brown gi that left her plain, slightly stretched white undershirt visible, her navy slacks replaced with brown trousers of identical fabric to her gi. A pair of wooden nunchucks connected with thick rope was tucked through her belt.

"I was like – y'all gonna take my shoes and make me wear these wooden platforms? Aww, __hell__ nah!" she was saying as Ira approached. She glanced over, shifting her weight and cocking one leg, the aforementioned shoes still clearly in evidence. "Oh, you finally showed up. We been here almost twenty minutes," she said as she tilted her head slightly to one side. I thought you mighta got lost – I had to tell everyone not to leave."

That got a number of sideways glances that suggested the opposite. Ira forced a small, flat smile to keep his immediate aggravation in check, not missing the way Mikhev started to take a step back and Yedani actually did.

"I was able to get directions and a map to a place in the forest where goblins are easily found," he said with a calmness he didn't feel. "I've checked with quite a number of more experienced Volunteer Soldiers, and most of them said it was the best way to start."

"Oh, well that's tight. Y'all doin' the research, gettin' that information." Felicia nodded, making another large gesture with her hand, this time sweeping it across her front, as though scooting something out of the air in front of her. "Let's do them goblins, then."

Ira lowered the long, broad-headed spear he'd had over his shoulder and held it out to Kanoha. "Here – I thought about selling it, but I figured I might see if someone else could use it first, and you look like you might be able to."

Kanoha blinked, and then stepped forward, hefting the spear in one hand, then both. He pursed his lips, and then nodded, turning and leveling it. "I . . . I can't say why, but this feels – kind of familiar. I think I can." He glanced at Ira. "Thanks."

Ira shrugged. "You're welcome. Like I said, it was that or I'd sell it. Shall we go?"

"Yes," Felicia said, with a sudden bright, false smile that Ira felt would look more attractive with a large rock through it. "I think we shall."

They didn't have much trouble on the way to the forest. If anything, the walk was actually kind of on the relaxing side, Felicia notwithstanding, with appreciable vistas from high on the hillsides, looking out over pristine valleys with shining rivers, deep, rich verdant green where they weren't a riot of color with wildflowers. It also gave them time to talk at least a little about what was ahead of them. With no one else opting to put their own offerings forward, Ira opted to take explaining their circumstances, insofar as he understood them, upon himself.

"So as far as strategies go, as I understand it, the Warrior and similar jobs are more or less the front line fighters," Ira said as they walked. He glanced at Mikhev. "It seems logical, given the armor."

Mikhev nodded, looking just the slightest bit uneasy.

"Yedani, in a party setting the Thief is a close-in fighter, but its best if you take the enemy from behind while their attention is on Mikhev. You and Kanoha's jobs are what they called a "light skirmisher" so its best if you can dish out the hits instead of trying to take them." Ira looked to Kanoha. "You're what they specifically called a "suppressor" - keeping any ranged enemies busy, helping pin down those that are closer in so Mikhev or Yedani can get in a kill-stroke, or even get in one yourself if you can. You should also try and intercept any before they can get to our more vulnerable members like Panashri or Soong."

Yedani swallowed. Kanoha just nodded, expression remaining even, giving no indication of his feelings on the matter.

Ira glanced over his shoulder at where Panashri and Soong were bringing up the rear. "Panashri – you and I are what they call controllers and strikers – we divide, disable, and where possible, kill the enemy. We have to keep things manageable for our in-close people and, as necessary, help Kanoha deal with enemies at a distance."

"Yes," Panashri said hurriedly, sounding as nervous as Yedani and Mikhev both combined.

"And Soong," Ira called back "you're in charge of keeping people alive. Everyone I talked to said it was really important to keep back out of danger and spend your magic when it counts, not over scratches that don't matter, at least until we're back safe in Ortana. You've got that staff or mace or whatever it is in case you need it to protect yourself or Panashri, but your biggest job besides healing is staying aware of what's happening outside the fight as well as in it. Someone has to keep a look out."

Soong actually stopped as he met her gaze over his shoulder, staring at him wide-eyed, and then hurried to catch up with the rest of them as they slowed.

"Ira, you left me out," Felicia announced from where she was walking next to Mikhev at the front.

"Ah, yes," Ira managed to keep his tone bland. "Help Yedani and Kanoha."

"I can do that," Felicia said brightly, giving a thumbs up as she turned her attention forward once more.

It wasn't _ _strictly__ untrue. Martial Artists were supposed to be medium skirmishers, engaging and eliminating enemies that were lightly or moderately armored, the hammer to the anvil that was a Warrior or Knight, or the other half of a pincer, so that light skirmishers could flank enemies.

Except that Felicia, for lack of a more polite way of putting it, seemed more or less incompetent.

Maybe he was being a _ _little__ unfair with that assessment. After all, he hadn't actually seen her fight yet – wasn't even sure how well he'd be able to handle it himself. All Ira had was what he'd cobbled together from talking to more experienced Volunteer Soldiers. If he was honest with himself, he was being sort of mean, even if it was mostly only in his own thoughts.

They came upon a pair of goblins without too much difficulty – they didn't look like much, squat, pot-bellied, green, with stubby legs and long skinny arms, but the daggers in their hands appeared sharp, and the conical metal caps on their heads, while dingy, looked sound enough.

"I suppose I'll go first," Ira said quietly. "Try and cut them off before they can run away. There are seven of us and two of them, so we should be able to win."

Mikhev grabbed his arm. "I thought I was supposed to be the front-line," he hissed.

Ira shrugged. "I'm mean. I'm going to hit them from here."

Mikhev let go, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

"Come, Spirit Of Ravenous Flame." Ira didn't try to say the words loudly. The incantation wasn't for the goblins to hear, really. It was to focus the power he was about to draw on. He let himself __feel__ the words, intensity so much more important than sound. He needed the words to roll through him, to give shape to what grew inside him – a __feeling__ that was more than just emotion, that fed on those emotions, that grew out of them as it swelled within him.

" _Take form, and become my armament_." He _ _could__ feel the words, could feel the strength behind them, filling them like a vessel. A spear of flame with the head of a serpent crackled into being just to his right, suspended in the air. Exultation rose up within him.

" _Strike._ "

He felt the release like his body was a bow, soul abruptly snapping with the expenditure of pressure.

The goblins looked up, snaggle-toothed mouths opening, perhaps in surprise.

The one on the right grunted as the fiery spear dove into the middle of its abdomen, dropping to its knobby knees, eyes tightening as it let out a tortured, breathy wail and collapsed forward onto its forearms.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't _ _satisfying__. The power within Ira remained, needing to be _ _used__ , to be expended. Ira was dimly aware of the goblin's companion recovering from staggering back, turning to run.

" _Come, Spirit of Ravenous Flame. Take form, and become my armament_." The words seemed to almost draw themselves forth from the sensations inside of him, as if they breathed of his very substance.

A half-dozen of the fiery spears crackled into being around him. A zephyr of hot air washed over him, ruffled his hair.

" _Strike_."

The fallen goblin jerked as those snake-headed projectiles buried themselves in its back, shuddered, and went limp. The flames hissed out.

Ira remembered to breathe. The other goblin had gone, the thrashing of branches as it fled already distant and dwindling. The scent of burned flesh hung in the air. He glanced around.

No one had moved from where they were crouching in the brush or hidden behind trees – they were all staring at him, even Felicia. Not a single one of them, not even her, said a single word.

He moved forward, alone, to see what his first kill had yielded.

The goblin had half a silver, literally half, in its pouch, along with a pair of long, yellowed claws. Ira wasn't sure what, if anything, the claws might be worth, but it was possible they'd be worth something at least. He wrapped the dirty fabric pouch around its contents and tucked it into a pocket.

Kanoha was the next to make a kill. The goblin ran from Mikhev, managed to get its dagger in the way of Yedani's long enough to scoot by her as it fled, and let out a mewling sob as the head of Kanoha's spear dove into its lower back. Kanoha pinned it to the ground with his spear, put his knee on its back, grabbed it by the long ears, and pulled its head back, releasing his knife from its scabbard on his chest harness.

He hesitated for a moment, and then reached down, and sawed it through the goblin's throat.

There was blood, but it wasn't as much as Ira had expected, soaking into the earth almost as quickly as it pooled.

Strangely, it was that second kill that made Felicia turn away and vomit into a bush. The second goblin had a goodly smattering of coppers and a rough-cut red stone of some sort – painite or bloodstone perhaps.

"I'm all right," Felicia said loudly after a moment despite no one asking. "I just needed a minute."

Their third encounter was with a pair of goblins, and this time they managed to work more as a team. Mikhev came at them from the front, Yedani from the side, and Panashri murmured something that made a glimmering, intricate purple pattern glow briefly in the air before erupting in a ball of pale green fire that almost bowled one of their targets right over.

Mikhev's sword went into its gut, axe cleaving through its collarbone and a good way into its right shoulder. Kanoha's spear took the other goblin in its left bicep, and suddenly Yedani was behind it, stabbing furiously, almost frantically with both hands, driving her dagger again and again into its back until it sank to the ground.

"Oh . . . oh mah gawd," Felicia said, hanging back, one hand close to her mouth, animal eyes wide. "Oh lawd. Oh lawd."

"Are we . . . is that enough . . . for one day?" Soong asked quietly, eyes squeezed shut, arms crossed over her chest, fingers curled and tucked under her chin.

They looked to him, all but Felicia, who was still staring at the goblin corpses with what appeared to be horrified fascination. Ira wasn't sure when he'd become the leader – he'd given guidance, sure, based on what he'd learned, but . . . well, he supposed it wasn't as though anyone else had yet claimed they wanted the job.

"I . . . well, we have enough money to eat, and maybe we can see what they're selling in the market." Ira shrugged, not quite comfortable with the idea of necessarily giving orders. "We can see if we can get money for the odds and ends we picked up too."

"Yes, please," Yedani said in a small voice, staring at the blood on her dagger with an almost bewildered expression, as though not quite sure how it had come to be there.

He managed to haggle thirty-eight coppers out of the silver coin half, and two more silvers each for what turned out to be grolit claws. Kanoha got a silver for what indeed turned out to be raw bloodstone, and the last pair of goblins had carried twenty-five and twenty-nine coppers respectively and a black wolf fang that fetched price of a silver and forty coppers.

All told, they ended up just seventeen coppers short of nine silvers. A silver and thirty-one coppers each wasn't a bad haul for what had really only amounted to a half day of hunting goblins. Arguably the largest portion of that was Ira's, but it was best to set expectations to where everyone benefited equally right from the start. He certainly couldn't leave Soong out in the cold when he was the one who'd told her not to fight on the front line.

Besides, the only one he really objected to sharing his bounty with was Felicia anyway.

They had dinner at a place called Shelly's Tavern, and in all honesty the food wasn't terrible even if it wasn't the best Ira had ever had. Of course, that being said, there weren't that many meals that he actually recalled all told.

Watching Felicia walk to the table with that rolling stride of hers, he thought suddenly it was too bad that there wasn't a Sailor job. Then he wondered how he even knew what a Sailor was or what it was about her bizarre way of walking that made him think such an occupation would suit her. Still, thinking of her miles away, it was a nice distraction – and if her ship went down somewhere out on an ocean - the notion was simply delightful.

The idea only gained more appeal listening to her natter on at the serving girl about the offerings for dinner. After that she complained about the temperature of the soup, the hardness of the bread, and the texture of the meat and vegetables.

It was a struggle not to shoot her a glare. He felt only mildly mollified when Mikhev finally gave her a disgusted look and told her to stop complaining because the serving girl had done more work than she had. The loud, dramatically emphasized sniffles were almost as obnoxious except that they tapered off reasonably quickly once it became apparent that no one, not even Soong or Yedani, was looking at her with the slightest bit of sympathy. If anything, those two in particular were avoiding meeting her gaze.

Peace was short-lived. On her second pint, Felicia discovered her love of beer. Ira finished his soup, paid his tab, and got up. Mikhev glanced up at him, hurriedly scooped the last of his bread through the slurry of soup remaining at the bottom of his bowl, and got up as well, shoveling his food into his mouth.

Kanoha had already left several minutes ago before any of them, finishing his meal without a word, which left Soong, Panashri, and Yedani at the table with Felicia. Soong started eating faster. Panashri and Yedani shot them looks that might have been wordless pleas not to abandon them.

Ira felt a mild pang of sympathy, but it wasn't enough to hold him. He and Mikhev were a little less than half a block away when their Priest caught up to them at a jog, falling in behind them. Mikhev glanced back at her, lips twisting in a cross between a wry grin and a grimace, and shook his head.

Ira couldn't explain how he knew that the Volunteer Soldier Trainee quarters they'd been given were a long way from luxurious, any more than he could explain why or how he missed having a wide-toothed comb and a good boar-bristle brush to keep his hair under a modicum of control.

Knowing that didn't change matters though, and it certainly didn't make any difference in the first breath-stealing hasty rinse and quick, cold scrub in the crisp fall night air followed by a bone-numbing immersion beneath the ice-cold cascade in the little stone-floored courtyard reserved for bathing as he was getting ready for bed. He knew some of the quarters were close enough to local hot springs to tap them for hot water, but they hadn't been so fortunate in being assigned living space. He didn't want to go to a bath house either. He had plans for the coin he'd earned today – namely a new skill and at least that comb.

He walked into the kitchen, clothed once more but still shivering. Mikhev looked at him, grimaced, sighed, and went back the way Ira had come.

Kanoha glanced up from where he was sitting next to the hearth. "That's setting a rough routine for this time of year."

Ira blinked. "What – hygiene? No one's making the rest of you wash, but you're more likely to get sick if you don't do it at least semi-regularly."

Kanoha rolled his eyes. He stood, grabbing the large fired-clay jug from the supply of crude crockery that had come with the quarters, and went to the pump, filling it up before setting it on the iron lattice over the hearth. Then he followed Mikhev.

Ira watched him go, and then opted to simply shake his head in lieu of saying anything and took Kanoha's place next to the hearth, holding his hands out to the heat and drinking it in.

"I'm glad you're our leader," Soong said quietly, sitting down across from him.

It was Ira's third surprise in half as many minutes and he looked up at her in surprise. "What? Why am I the leader?"

Soong half-shrugged, looking down and running her fingers over her hair. "You just – you're the one figuring things out, telling the rest of us what we should do, and it . . . makes sense - what you say makes sense, I mean."

"Oh," Ira said, the word as much a sigh as an acknowledgment. "Thank you, I suppose."

"You're um . . . you're also not mean," Soong continued. "Even though . . . even though all of us can tell you want to choke Felicia."

"You don't?" Ira asked dryly.

Soong gave another of those half-shrugs, biting her lower lip. "She . . . she's pretty annoying. I feel bad for Pana and Yeda but . . . better them than me."

Ira let his eyes slide closed, let his head drop, and let out a small, wry chuckle.

There was a loud sound from the direction of the bathing courtyard – a cross between a yelp and a whoop. Ira glanced in the direction of the sound, and then back at Soong in time to catch a smile that seemed torn between amusement and ruefulness.

Mikhev trotted in a few minutes later, barefoot and bare-chested, shirt in hand, crouching in front of the open end of the hearth and running his hands over his hair. He didn't seem too much the worse for wear. Kanoha returned not long after, moving a bit more slowly.

He was a very macho, stoic sort, Ira realized after a moment, watching as Kanoha checked the water temperature in the jug with his little finger.

He'd initially thought Kanoha was making preparations for hot drinks. Instead, Kanoha glanced at Soong. "It's fairly hot now – if you lather quickly it should stay warm long enough."

He was also, evidently, a gentleman.

Soong's eyes widened. Mikhev looked up at her and then back at the hearth. "Go on – I'm too cold to leave the fire, and Kanoha isn't going to look. Ira doesn't care."

Soong nodded, inclining her head to Kanoha in a sort of little bow. "Thank you."

Kanoha nodded back slightly but said nothing as Soong took the jug with her.

"I don't care?" Ira asked pointedly, glancing at Mikhev, not so much offended as surprised yet again and curious as to how Mikhev had even known about his preferences.

"The serving girl bent over right in front of you and your eyes never even left her face. You noticed right away though when that brunette stood up two tables over and adjusted himself on the way to the door." Mikhev's tone remained casual. "I didn't even think he was in your field of vision." He looked over at Ira. "Why'd you make me be the one who had to say something to Felicia?"

Ira snorted. "I didn't make you do anything."

Mikhev shook his head. "It's not like anyone else was going to."

If Panashri, Yedani, and Felicia's return was loud or even notable, it wasn't enough to stir Ira from his sleep. When he woke in the morning though, Yedani was already up and heat was radiating from the oven despite the sun having yet to even crest the mountains.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

"That was Felicia snoring in our room," she said without preamble, glancing briefly at him before returning her attention to the split logs she was shoving into the opening at the oven's base. "She spent all of her share of what we each got yesterday, and a good portion of what she had left from Bri."

"Ah," he said simply. "Thank you for getting the fire started."

"That was Kanoha." Yedani glanced in the direction of the yard. "He's practicing more with the spear. I told him I would take care of making breakfast."

"My thanks again," Ira said quietly.

Yedani tilted her head slightly sideways for a moment in a way that suggested a small approximation of a shrug. "I may as well since I am making something for myself. I think . . . I have cooked this way before, but it was not recently that I did it last."

"I'm glad you at least have an idea of what you're doing then. Let me know if you need any help," Ira said, taking a seat next to the hearth.

"You might talk to Felicia. Remind her that she should be prudent," Yedani said almost without a pause after he'd finished speaking.

"I . . . was referring to breakfast, actually." Ira glanced at her.

She didn't reply to that.

It irritated Ira that Felicia could be a source of immediate aggravation even asleep and oblivious to the goings-on around her. He supposed he couldn't really make any claim to genuine surprise over that fact, unfortunately.

By the time the sun had been well and truly in the sky for more than an hour, it was readily apparent that Felicia wasn't going to rise any time soon. Breakfast was decent if a little bland, scrambled eggs stuffed into hot rolls. Ira's resolve to have a chat with Felicia had been slight from the start, wavered quickly, and evaporated through helping with cleaning the breakfast things.

"Since we're evidently not going back to the forest today, I'm going to the market," he announced.

"We could simply leave her here," Kanoha suggested quietly.

On the one hand, Ira wasn't certain he could trust Felicia not to do something foolish like wander out of town after them and get lost or even killed. On the other hand, that very idea had substantial appeal.

It _ _would__ be a shame to waste the prime part of the day and just come back here to hang around the place. Ira had assumed at least one of his fellow party members would have objected to leaving Felicia to her own devices, but there wasn't a word of dissent.

He shrugged. "Get your gear, everyone."

They moved quickly, and before the morning was very old, they were already sneaking into encircling positions around a trio of goblins. Ira went first.

" _Come, Spirit of Ravenous Flame. Take form, and become my armament_." He recalled it readily, the way the words reverberated through the substance of his spirit and flesh, drawing the energy within him into the form of the magic he shaped. He tried to keep it moderate this time, conserve a little of his strength.

The goblins looked up, eyes widening as four snake-headed spears of flame crackled into being around him. " _Strike,_ " he intoned unhurriedly.

He'd meant to hit two of them, but it was more difficult than he'd expected. He got the goblin on the right square in the chest with two of his spears and it flopped backward, the third going wide and sparking across the dew-damp earth with a _ _whoosh__ , the last spear scoring the second goblin's ribs as it flung itself sideways out of the way.

The third goblin shrieked and charged toward him. Kanoha came charging out of the brush to intercept, and Mikhev and Yedani faced off against the one Ira had wounded, cutting off its escape.

Panashri's first ball of green fire missed the goblin trying to get past Kanoha's spear and close enough to engage with its dagger.

It wasn't difficult at all to conjure two more flame spears.

"Kanoha," Ira said, trying to divide his concentration between maintaining the spears and talking at the same time. "Try and back up or something. Give me an opening."

One flame spear shivered, flames flickering, and guttered out. Ira grimaced and held onto the other one with all his concentration. Mikhev and Yedani were trying to get through the other goblin's guard, but it was clearly putting everything it had into trying to stay alive, huffing and whimpering, ducking and parrying as it rapidly backpedaled.

Kanoha abruptly dropped his spear and leapt back, going for his long knife, barely getting it out in time to drive the goblin's dagger away from his face, but the blade cut into his shoulder instead and Ira heard him grunt.

The goblin pressed him, and Kanoha had to give ground, barely keeping the dagger at bay. He had a significant advantage in reach, but the goblin was much closer to the ground, agile, and obviously practiced with its dagger. It let out an evil little sound, something between a howl and a hair-raising shriek, still fighting.

Then it covered its face as another of Panashri's green balls of flame washed over it. Kanoha grabbed the arm with the dagger, picked the goblin up with sheer brute force, and slammed it bodily against the trunk of a nearby tree before shoving his knife through its wrist, pinning it there. He backed up, and Ira's flame spear dived in between its ribs.

It let out a coughing gurgle.

The last goblin let out another whimper at that sound, almost lost its head to Mikhev's sword, and turned to run. Mikhev's axe chopped through one leg and lodged in the knee of the other, and then Yedani was on the goblin's back, one of its long ears in one hand, jamming her dagger into the side of its neck.

It was Ira's first time seeing Soong's healing Light Magic in action, lines of delicate rainbow light gleaming on the air like the wings of a butterfly before diffusing into Kanoha's shoulder, glow fading and leaving behind unbroken flesh.

Kanoha looked at her and nodded. "Thank you."

Soong smiled slightly. "You're welcome." She cleared her throat. "I . . . I feel useful now. I mean, not that I'm glad that you got hurt," she added quickly.

Kanoha didn't smile, just nodded. "It's a good thing you're with us."

It wasn't so much that they improved drastically over the course of the day, but they did improve noticeably as they tracked down goblins and eliminated them, taking whatever small trinkets they happened to be carrying, their crude daggers and ubiquitous little helmets going into a sack to be sold as scrap.

Ira, Kanoha, and Panashri began starting each attack in concert, Ira's spell the signal for Kanoha to nock an arrow and Panashri to begin her own spell. Lone goblins never even got close enough to cross blades with, and even pairs of them hardly lasted much longer. Yedani got better at circling around goblins after Mikhev had them focused on him.

Their attacks came in closer together, tighter, more coordinated.

By midafternoon they had worked their way in not farm from the outskirts of the old part of the abandoned city of Damuro where the goblins were thicker in their numbers. Ira was beginning to feel genuine strain, enough that it was taking him a moment to catch his breath. Panashri was pale, but she hadn't complained. Soong and the others still looked relatively fresh.

"I'm sure you could go at this all night," Mikhev said finally as they crouched in a glade to take a breather, voice quiet. "But Panashri looks worn out, and I'm sure everyone's impressed by your endurance."

Ira blinked. "I . . . wasn't trying to impress anyone. I just wanted to keep up."

Mikhev snorted. "With who?" He shook his head. "Never mind."

"We can go back if the rest of you are ready as well," Ira replied quietly.

"Good," Kanoha murmured. "Yedani and I will scout the path back."

They only encountered one goblin on the way back, and Ira only knew about it because they passed it lying face down across the trail, three of Kanoha's arrows in its back and several deep knife wounds providing clear evidence of the manner of its passing.

In comparison to their previous day's efforts, the bounty from their day's work was substantially larger by orders of magnitude even after they'd divvied it out. No one made mention of reserving a portion for Felicia, and in fact up until that point, Ira realized he hadn't even thought of her.

He certainly wasn't about to put the notion forth himself.

"Shall we have dinner and then head back to our quarters?" he asked, feeling rather genial at the idea of postponing a probable encounter with his least-favorite member of their group.

"Please – I'm starved," Panashri said quickly.

"I thought tomorrow we'd take some time to get a little bit better gear," he said as they made their way towards Shelly's Tavern. Looking at goblin helmets all day had made him all too aware that Mikhev had no such protection, and for that matter Kanoha and Yedani could use protection that was a bit more substantial if they were going to be in close. "At least a helmet for Mikhev, and some kind of armor for Kanoha and Yedani." He glanced at the three in question. "I have no problem helping to defray the cost, and then after that's done I mean to spend some coin on training for a couple of new skills."

Mikhev reached up, patting his head. "Couldn't hurt. Not one like those little cones the goblins wear though. I don't want to be confused for one."

"They don't seem to do them much good anyway," Soong added. "I'll put in money towards that helmet and armor too."

"This plan is prudent, Ira, but you've already given me a weapon. You don't need to gift me armor as well." Kanoha hefted the spear he'd been carrying over his shoulder.

"You staying alive benefits all of us, especially when you'll be in close." Ira shook his head.

"Right - what if you need to get in the way of something again?" Mikhev interjected. He socked Kanoha lightly on the shoulder. "You and me – we have to keep trouble clear of them."

"Indeed," Kanoha conceded.

Talk at the tavern centered mostly around the way the goblins in Damuro were continuing to keep their patrols both frequent and numerous through the old part of the city. It was making it difficult for fledgling groups to access the city and the more affluent goblins without a high degree of danger.

The gnolls, cousins to the kobolds in the Cyrene Mine, were mentioned. Apparently they were establishing semi-permanent camps in the Hills of Bowen on Damuro's northwest flank between the city and the mine, and it was speculated that it was for the purpose of raids, or trade, or both.

Some groups thought those camps might present an attractive opportunity if trade was really going on since it meant non-human merchants and goods being concentrated among them, but also meant tighter security.

It was something to think about, at least until they got back to their quarters and Felicia came striding out with that strange, unattractive rolling walk of hers, hands above her head.

"Oh mah gawd, I can't believe y'all left me! I thought y'all mighta died, and I was all alone, and I couldn't get no fire started, and it was cold, and I could barely find anything to eat!" Her loud voice carried with unwelcome clarity through the chill night air.

Ira wasn't the only one to slow, but he was the one to get looks from the rest of the group.

He sighed. "Felicia – don't drink yourself into a stupor," he said plainly. "We're going shopping tomorrow. We'll probably go out the next day though. Be ready to go with us this time."

She sniffled. "Did y'all at least bring me somethin' to eat?"

"I . . . have a couple of leftover meat dumplings," Panashri said after a long, pregnant pause. "You can have them."

"Oh lawd, thank you!" Felicia rolled forward and wrapped her long arms around Panashri. " _Thank you_ , I been __so__ hungry!"

Ira's nostrils tightened as he caught a faint hint of the scent of Felicia's unwashed body odor. He felt a distinct pang of sympathy for Panashri as he headed inside. He also felt the unavoidable necessity of washing again even though it was going to be just as cold or colder than before.

This time when Mikhev grimaced at the sight of him returning shivering to the kitchen, Ira didn't even acknowledge him. He wasn't making the other men bathe after all.

"There's a bathhouse in Ortana that has hot water, and hot springs," Kanoha said as he returned, hair wet from his own wash, skin pale. "It's thirty coppers, but . . ." He shrugged, trailing off.

Ira shrugged back without replying. Even with their good fortune today, thirty coppers wasn't cheap, especially as a daily expense. He at least had more expensive necessities, for the time being anyway.

That being said however, going upstairs and looking at the straw in his bunk was enough to convince him that he could at least spare enough of what he'd earned to afford a decent blanket.

Felicia was up with the rest of them the next morning. She didn't smell any better, but Ira kept his opinion on the matter to himself, busying himself with watching how Kanoha wielded the firestarter, finally getting an ember to glowing life after several tries and using it to light a swatch of hay that he used in turn to light the kitchen's center hearth.

Ira took charge of cooking the eggs, getting a mildly surprised look from Yedani as she came in, but she said nothing as she got out flour and oil and started making dough.

Garlic, Ira decided, adding the spice to his mental list. Maybe even pepper if it was cheap enough. A pinch of salt would have been nice, but even just the little time he'd spent passing through the market before now had been enough to see beyond a shadow of a doubt that salt was, in fact, __not__ cheap. That fact struck him as a little odd, but of course he couldn't say why that was.

Once breakfast was served, eaten, and the cleanup was finished, Kanoha covered the fire in the hearth.

"I think . . . I think if I do this right, then it should still have embers we can light from later." Kanoha shrugged. "Or I may end up just filling the house with smoke."

"What about umm . . ." Mikhev reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know why, but flint and a piece of steel come to mind. Don't they make sparks?"

"Keep an eye out for them then," Ira said as he put the last of their wooden plates away.

It was strangely a relief when one of the others recalled something in the same way he did without knowing how or why or when they'd learned it. It was a little reminder, a similarity with others in the same situation. Maybe it wasn't the greatest thing to bond over, but it was at least something.

The helmet they found for Mikhev wasn't new, but it was solid, and it came right down to his shoulders, overlapping plates welded together over leather padding with a wide, latticed visor that Mikhev said didn't hinder his vision enough to matter.

The sewn thigh-length leather jackets they found for Yedani and Kanoha needed tailoring to fit comfortably, but with Ira and Soong and Panashri all chipping in to defray the expense, it didn't leave anyone in danger of being broke.

Felicia was generous with only her opinion, which was understandable in light of her circumstances even if it didn't improve Ira's estimation of her. Of course, realistically speaking, there was probably little she could do that would improve that anyway short of essentially becoming someone entirely different.

He was a bit more lavish on his blanket than was really probably necessary, acquired a suitable wooden comb at a very reasonable price of eight coppers, and still had enough to pay for training for a new skill without diminishing his remaining coin to a level that engendered concern.

"Not really the weapons sort, I see," his guildmaster said with that faint grin of his as Ira approached.

"I gave it to a party member that would put it to better use," Ira replied frankly.

There were a number of skills that were within Ira's financial means and level of expertise, but he ended up settling on the Charm enchantment for two silvers. He could see where it might be even more useful to have an enemy at his beck and call in some situations than it would be to be able to slay one or two.

He also more or less badgered his teacher into teaching him a little fire-starting spell for twenty coppers despite repeated assurances that a good firebow would be only a little slower and more energy efficient. Ira wasn't particularly concerned about the latter, and using a little magic was just faster and easier.

It was already after sunset by the time he was finished at the Sorcerers' Hall. The vendors and hawkers had already closed up their stalls. Ira considered making a stop at Sherry's to see if the others were getting dinner there, but decided against it, picking up a meal of soup and noodles with chunks of meat and vegetables from a little streetside shop that warmed him up inside for the rest of the walk back.

The fire in the kitchen hearth was already alight when he walked in. Yedani and Panashri glanced up from the steaming mugs cupped in their hands, hair still noticeably wet.

"Would you like some tea?" Yedani asked quietly.

Ira shook his head. "No, but thank you. I got some hot noodles on the way back. Is everyone else back as well?"

"Yes." Panashri blew across the surface of her mug. "We managed to convince Felicia to bathe. She cried a little afterward, but at least she's clean. I do not think she is taking this well."

Ira sat and shrugged. "I . . . I can't pretend that I feel much sympathy for her. We're all in the same situation. This may be more challenging for her, but . . . unfortunately that means she'll have to put in more effort," he finished after a pause, unable to think of a different way to phrase it.

Panashri looked mildly taken aback, and then, after a moment, she nodded. "This is true – if unfortunate – that there is only so much we can do for her."

Yedani took a quick sip of her own drink, and then a longer draught. "Shall we wait a little longer to make sure she's fallen asleep?"

"I am inclined to," Panashri replied, expression just the slightest bit guilty.

Perhaps it wasn't __strictly__ necessary to bathe every night before bed Ira found himself thinking as he shivered through another hurried shower, lathering up his body with the soap before dousing it once more beneath the icy cascade and toweling off with fingers that had already started to go numb. Taking a __hot__ bath seemed like almost an outlandish luxury by comparison even if Ira wasn't sure how he knew it would be so much more pleasant.

There were other things though – concrete, immediate, relatively _ _important__ things that he needed to spend that kind of coin on. For one thing, he and the others all needed at least one additional set of clothes so they could wash what they'd been wearing for the last few days.

Mikhev and Kanoha were having a low-voiced conversation when Ira walked in, something about the state of their weapons. Ira didn't pay particularly close attention to it as he pulled the large, thick felt blanket he'd bought out of his bag and unrolled it. The soft, deep green fabric seemed to almost caress his fingers. Ira was looking forward very much to the change from dry, often scratchy straw on his skin.

He scooped a depression in the straw, folded the blanket over in half within it, and settled into the envelope of soft, downy warmth it created. The difference was even more remarkable than he'd expected and he snuggled into it, letting out a deep sigh of true contentment.

"Damn. He looks really comfortable," Mikhev murmured.

"Indeed," Kanoha whispered back. "Mikhev, what-"

Ira opened his eyes, on the edge of sleep, comprehension taking a moment to make its way through his brain as the side of the bunk bed creaked and he caught a glimpse of Mikhev's bare body in the moonlight.

There was a draft of cold air, and then Mikhev's only marginally warmer body was abruptly pressed against Ira's and he was resettling the blankets.

Ira was frozen. "Mikhev," he finally said, surprised yet again by the platinum-haired Warrior. "What are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable," Mikhev replied evenly.

Kanoha started coughing in the dimness.

"Look, I'm not going to try anything and I know you don't mind," Mikhev continued. "There's enough room in here for both of us as long as you're not greedy, and we can share body heat. I was going to do it anyway when it got colder."

"Maybe you'd be better off cuddling with Kanoha." Ira tried to make his tone firm and hoped that Mikhev couldn't tell he was blushing fiery red in the little moonlight coming in through the window.

"He'd definitely kick me out – and besides, no blanket." Mikhev's tone turned overly casual. "Sweet dreams, Ira."

It took Ira a while to fall asleep, the process significantly delayed when Mikhev yawned and actually wrapped an arm around his middle, the front of his body pressed full-length against Ira's. Ira finally ended up rolling over, facing away, and Mikhev just crowded right up against him again.

Ira thought about kicking him out.

But he didn't.

When he woke in the morning it was with full memory of exactly what had happened the previous night, and he blushed all over again. The blanket wasn't exactly restrictive, but he was more or less nestled into where it was folded over, so there wasn't a great deal of give, and Mikhev's muscular arm was a solid weight over his ribs and around his belly that didn't make things much easier.

Mikhev let out a noise that was a cross between a snort and a grumble as Ira shifted. "Oh come on, just fifteen more minutes. Kanoha's already gotten up to start the fire anyway. I think he's trying to compete with you for toughness."

"I'm not trying to compete with anyone," Ira retorted.

"Good, because I think I might have cost you some points when you didn't kick me out last night. This blanket is amazing, Ira." He chuckled abruptly. "You weren't too bad either."

Ira tried to think of something to say. Nothing came to mind. Thankfully Mikhev apparently realized that he was only making things more awkward, because he didn't say anything else. He didn't get up either, though.

Felicia came down just in time to join the rest of them for the tail-end of breakfast, and then they were on their way in the early morning light. The air was well and truly cold now, the wind bitter when it blew. Ira was glad he had his coat. Felicia had her arms wrapped around herself.

The walk out to the forest helped get their bodies warmed up, blood pumping. If the cold bothered the goblins at all, it didn't show in their choice of garb – the same manky loincloths as before, dirty feet just as bare. Ira supposed they simply adapted to the change in the seasons like animals. Their little conical helmets probably helped them retain at least some of their body heat as well.

They didn't rove as much, tending to congregate in numbers around their fires, so perhaps they __did__ feel the cold at least to an extent.

That also made them easier to corral since they were already bunched up.

It turned out that he wasn't the only one to spend coin on new skills. Perhaps rather appropriately for the season, Panashri had picked up a nasty little ice spell, creating a cloud of frost on the air that left the goblins coughing – dry, wracking heaves that made their eyes water. Mikhev's sword and axe moved so swiftly that Ira only saw gleaming trails on the air, lines of blood following in their wake a heartbeat later across goblin flesh. Yedani swept nimbly underneath a goblin's thrust, pivoting and shoving her dagger right into its back, and Kanoha put an arrow right through the last goblin's throat from fifteen paces away.

Felicia hadn't moved from where she was standing next to Soong, shivering, either from the cold or from what she'd just witnessed.

"Felicia – why don't you support Mikhev in the next fight?" Ira suggested. "Stick close to him. Try and get at the goblin from the side once Mikhev has its attention without getting in his way."

Felicia gulped. "I – do I gotta?"

Ira did his best not to shoot her a stare that indicated just how stupid he thought the question really was. Evidently he didn't quite succeed because Panashri grimaced and Yedani took a moment to study her shoes. Soong just stared at Felicia.

Mikhev cleared his throat. "Stick by me – we'll get you through this."

The second goblin campfire was on the edge of the lake. It had four of their prey huddled around it, fresh-caught fish just beginning to cook over the flames. Panashri's spell was no less effective this time and the pair of flame spears Ira brought forth struck only a moment later, taking one of the goblins out of the fight, one of Kanoha's arrows taking another through the throat.

That left two struggling unsteadily to their feet as Mikhev closed. Felicia hung back, nun-chucks shaking in her hand. Mikhev swung both weapons in a wide arc, and both goblins stumbled back.

"Felicia!" he called loudly. "Come from the left!" He swung again, and the goblins split – one heading left, the other scooting around the fire along the edge of the lake, right into Yedani's waiting knife.

Mikhev kept even with the other goblin, not pressing the attack, weapons brandished.

The goblin let out a loud caterwaul, holding up its dagger, mottle green features tense and angry, looking very nearly demonic.

Mikhev growled at it, baring his teeth, and it swung a few times, cutting the empty air with its blade.

"Felicia," Mikhev said, voice hard.

Felicia was shaking. "I – I can't, y'all – I __cain't__ _!_ " She brought her hands to her mouth, standing where she was.

It was only a little distance for Ira to cover, looking at the goblin over Mikhev's shoulder. Now was as good a time as any.

"Hear me," he said, letting the feelings well up within him, given shape. " _Know me._ "

He could feel the goblin's will suddenly against his, a flickering thing, surprisingly delicate. He surrounded it with his own, with the power within him, enveloping it, suffocating it in a hardening crystalline prison. " _Heed me."_

The goblin started to shake, dropping its dagger, hands going to its head. The fight was already all but out of it, but Ira wanted to be sure he had complete control.

" _Hear me. Know me._ " He could feel the goblin's last bit of resistance gutter and gasp into stillness beneath the weight of his strength. " _Heed me._ "

The goblin let out a small, quavering, querulous sound, looking up at him, mouth trembling, eyes wide.

Mikhev was looking from the goblin to him and back. Yedani was staring at him, eyes slightly narrowed.

"I have it under my control," Ira said calmly. He gestured at the dagger the goblin had dropped. "Pick it up."

The goblin blinked, looking down, bent and picked up the dagger, studying it for a moment before looking to him once more.

Ira turned his gaze to Felicia.

Her gaze went from him, to the goblin, then back to him, and then she was shaking her head, waving her hands. "Oh gawd," she hiccupped. "Oh lawd, oh gawd, no. Oh please lawd, no. Please don't do that to me. Please, I'm beggin' you – don't be doin' that to me."

Ira shook his head. "I'm not going to put a spell on you. This will give you a chance to practice."

"Ira . . ." Mikhev's tone was uneasy. "Are you sure you can control it like that? I mean – if it hurts her . . ."

Ira shrugged. "It won't. Much. Besides, Soong is here." He kept his gaze fixed on Felicia. "We all have to fight. You have to fight too. There's no other way for us to survive here."

It wasn't entirely true. Felicia __might__ be able to live for a little while as a beggar on what tiny pittance she might manage to scrape from any sympathy that came her way, at least for a few days. But in the winter, with no heat, too little food, and no shelter – she wouldn't last very long. Ira had no intention of sheltering and feeding her in exchange for nothing.

It was painful to watch, and Ira felt the first stirrings of pity mingling with the usual heap of plentiful contempt before it was finally over, the sounds of Felicia's sniffles and sobs and panting scraping at his nerves as she dueled the goblin. It was very visibly one-sided at the beginning, and she was utterly pathetic, but if nothing else, it gave Ira appreciation for just how deep his domination over the goblin's mind truly ran.

The goblin almost capered around her, nimble and quick, moving quickly out of the way of her wooden weapon, retaliating with its dagger – never doing any real damage, but the wicked edge left a slim, bleeding line here and there. Her blows that actually landed were almost utterly ineffective, and the goblin recovered quickly from most of the more telling hits, sharp little teeth bared, beady black eyes narrowed as it ducked and maneuvered, tormenting her.

By the end of her ordeal Felicia was a red-eyed, sniveling mess, sweating, hair wild, snot running down her face, blood welling up from a dozen little cuts, lunging and crying and scrambling until finally she managed to get the cord of her nun-chucks around the goblin's hand, forcing it back as she leapt on top of it, ramming her fist into its head over and over and over again until it finally stopped moving. She grabbed its dagger and plunged it again and again into the warty green chest until the goblin's blood soaked her clothes, and then crawled away from the corpse and cried some more.

Ira felt bad for her. Truth be told, he even felt bad for the goblin. He felt like he'd done something cruel, even though rationally it was no more cruel than what he'd done up until now. It was their lives or the lives of their adversaries, and while Ira might not take particular pleasure in the slaughter of their enemies, he was ready and willing to put his material interest and well-being above theirs. Fortunately for Felicia, his interests included hers to at least a limited extent.

He said nothing as Soong and Yedani and Panashri gathered around Felicia, helping her to the waters edge, sponging away the blood that was starting to clot in the tattered fabric of her savaged clothing. Soong healed her scratches and lacerations, and Yedani wrapped Felicia in her shoulder-cloak. Mikhev removed the cooking fish from the fire before they'd done more than char at the edges, and while Felicia still trembled, crouching close to the fire, she also ate.

She avoided looking at Ira for the rest of the day, uncharacteristically silent, nun-chucks clenched tight in her hands. She fought beside Mikhev, not particularly well, and visibly making every effort only to strike when she herself was in no immediate danger, but she __did__ fight.

They made it to within sight of the fallen walls of old Damuro before Ira announced they were done for the day. He'd expected Felicia to look relieved at that, and while she did seem to relax a little at hearing it, her expression remained one of grim, dogged, worn and utterly disheveled determination.


	2. Chapter 2: Tender & The Cost of Living

**Author's Notes:** **Character Death. You've been warned.**

* * *

Chapter 2

Barter And Bills, Coin And Legal Tender

Cost Of Living

Old Damuro was a white, sometimes treacherous ruin beneath its mantle of snow, but it was one that yielded increased rewards from the sly goblins that patrolled it in well-organized little units he'd dubbed squads and platoons without quite knowing where the terms came from. They were vicious, used crossbows and swords in addition to their daggers, and had a ready grasp of tactics. Their armor remained relatively primitive, usually a chest and shoulder-plates when they bothered to wear it at all, but it was more than their kin outside of the city had employed in combat.

Ira's party had quickly learned that it was best to time the patrols, sneak in between them, cover their tracks, and then begin their hunting within the city itself – otherwise they risked whatever patrol they'd disposed of being missed and a punitive force being sent in to follow.

They'd been lucky enough to manage to ambush that first punitive force, and lucky that it numbered only a platoon of two squads, a total of eight goblins, but without the element of surprise and overwhelming magical force it was entirely possible most or all of them would have been killed.

A charmed goblin was now a foundation of their strategy – locating and numbering other squads, covering the party's tracks when they moved from position to position, and keeping a lookout for roving squads on patrol as they snuck in and out, week after week.

Even so, it was dangerous. Ira was giving serious thought to having their adventuring party join the others currently plumbing the depths of the Cyrene Mines. With the elimination of Death Spots it was no longer quite as likely to be lethal, but the enclosed spaces of a network of mining tunnels presented their own challenges.

Increased wealth presented a very compelling trade-off for the enhanced danger they now faced however, and Ira certainly wasn't about to recommend that they go back to hunting the weaker, poorer goblins in the forest.

He wore an ankle-length dark green coat now, the high collar and deep, wide hood lined with gray rabbit fur and reinforced with thick leather paneling in the chest, shoulders and the abdomen down to the thighs, a thick green woolen scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face, a felt hat of dark gray trimmed with more gray rabbit fur around the brim on his head that came down over his ears, woolen gloves on his hands.

Panashri had similarly opted for increased comfort in her new garb, her dark brown coat knee-length, fur-lined boots meeting it, soft black leggings under her long blue skirt. They'd bought their hats from the same stall, all but identical but for the sandy hue of Panashri's hat and the fur trim in brown. Her staff was new as well, the shaft straight, the head curled into a tight, pale whorl around a pale yellow globe, grasped in hands that were girded with thick dark blue mittens.

Soong's tunic was layered, blue over white over blue, with a large, deep hood lined in white rabbit fur. Like Panashri she'd elected to go with thick mittens, though hers were white, her thick blue trousers tucked into fur-lined ankle-boots. She still had her original bronze-headed staff, and truthfully it usually saw little actual use. Her pale pink headband had thick flaps that came down over her ears.

Yedani still had her thigh-length leather coat, claiming it was more than warm enough, though she supplemented it with a big, pale, faintly beige scarf that she wrapped around her head and neck. She'd become adept at wielding two knives at once. Her pants were softer leather, tops of her calf-high boots trimmed in black fur.

Kanoha had replaced his leather coat with one that was padded and studded with steel rivets, high-collared and long enough to come down over his thighs. The skin-tight hose had been replaced with baggy trousers tucked into knee-high boots, his gloves of soft brown leather. He'd replaced his bow with a longer, sturdier one that gave greater range, the simple broad-headed spear that Ira had given him replaced with one that had an actual blade, slightly curved and long enough to be a short-sword by itself. Like Soong he'd opted to get a headband with ear flaps, only in dark brown.

Mikhev's armor was still used, but offered a much greater degree of protection, the breastplate now covering his entire torso, a matching backplate buckling at the shoulders and sides to protect him from behind, layered plates on his shoulders and at his elbows allowing mobility while thick plates guarded his biceps and forearms. His legs were similarly girded. He still wore his mail shirt underneath it however. He'd replaced his sword with a slightly longer one, and the axe with a second sword that was nevertheless thick enough to serve almost as well, nearly triangular in shape with one edge sharp. His helmet was the same, but he'd painted red horns on the top.

He also now had a matching codpiece over his crotch.

Much like the rest of them, Felicia had used her share of the coin to replace her own apparel, and hadn't stopped there. She'd bought herself a leather jacket and at the moment had on a red sweater, the loose-fitting black trousers over her big hips trimmed at the ankles with fur. Ira wasn't sure what possessed the woman to get shoes with heels, but these were her second pair despite how uncomfortable they had to be. She'd been tall to start with, and with them she was as tall as Kanoha, though not as graceful, that awkward, rolling walk of hers unchanged. She had two pairs of nun-chucks now, though she only used one at a time, one of iron with a connecting iron chain, and one of wood banded with bronze with a chain of the same.

If she spent much on skills, Ira had yet to witness it. The only one he'd ever seen her actually use was Smash, though he supposed that was something. He wasn't inclined to say she actually pulled her weight compared to the rest of them, but at least she wasn't dead weight anymore.

They were on their way back from their latest expedition, the sun getting low in the west.

"Do we want to wait for the next patrol to pass, or get a little extra for the road?" Ira asked quietly in the shelter of a ruin with half its roof long ago fallen in, snow slipping into the rest in little flurries and piling in the corners and doorways.

"I'm still fresh." Mikhev shrugged. "Relatively, anyway."

"It reduces the risk since we'll know another won't be along for a while. They never expect us to take them from within the city," Kanoha added.

Ira looked to the girls.

Yedani nodded. "It will put us that much closer to our full Volunteer Soldier tags."

Panashri nodded as well.

"I just wanna go home, y'all. I'm _haungry_." Felicia wore a grimace.

"I agree. We can use the extra coin and there is little danger to us if we are quick and take them by surprise." Soong didn't even glance at Felicia.

"We take the next patrol then." Ira turned to his latest charmed goblin. "Gomer."

He didn't know why he'd taken to calling them that – something from his past that he couldn't quite recall the reasoning behind, but it seemed to fit.

"Go scout for the next patrol. Keep an eye out for anything else we should know about too."

The goblin nodded and scampered out into the broken street.

Ira expected him to be gone ten, maybe fifteen minutes. He was back in perhaps three, jabbering something.

Ira scooped up snow and scattered it on the floor. "Show me."

The goblin scratched its head, and then squatted and with one clawed green finger began to draw – figures with long limbs in front of figures with shorter limbs and little triangular caps.

"Other adventurers – on the run," Kanoha said, looking over Gomer's shoulder.

"We don't know when the next patrol is coming." Ira straightened.

"We're going to save them, aren't we?" Panashri asked.

"We don't know how much trouble they're in," Mikhev interjected.

"I don't want to leave them to their fate, but it's a risk." Kanoha shook his head.

"We should go," Yedani looked at the rest of them. "We can help them. We're strong, and we are not yet spent. Gomer didn't take long to return. We have little time. They are surely close."

"Y'all . . ." Felicia wavered, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I have magic left, and so do you and Panashri," Soong said, coming forward and looking Ira in the eye. "We don't know when the next patrol will come, and if these others run into them . . ."

Ira looked to Mikhev and Kanoha. They nodded, albeit slowly.

"Take us there," Ira said to Gomer.

Gomer took them to an intersection just as an armored man limped into view, a figure in leathers on his back. There was a woman with them, holding up a shield almost as big as she was with both hands. Crossbow bolts clanked off of its face. The armored man grunted as one got by the shield and lodged in the mail covering his shoulder.

His hair was dark red, like old blood, stubble on his face, blue eyes fixed forward. Ira couldn't explain the way the sight of that face with its broad jaw, proud nose, and prominent features suddenly made a dozen different feelings rise up inside of him.

He was around the corner a heartbeat later and snake-headed spears of flame hissed through the air, two of them slamming into a goblin's chest, a second goblin getting one in the face and the belly. A third goblin raised its shield in time to avoid sharing a similar fate, fire splashing over the shield's face.

Yedani yanked him out of the way of a crossbow quarrel, and Kanoha had an arrow nocked, sighting down its length. The remaining goblin with a crossbow turned, probably to find cover, and staggered as Kanoha's arrow slammed through its ribs, another plunging in a moment later beneath the first, and the goblin crumpled.

There were three more goblins, armed with swords and shields. Two of them charged, one hanging back.

Mikhev went to meet them. Panashri was casting a spell – a sphere of water materialized in front of her and she smashed it with her staff, droplets of varying sizes becoming long spindles of glittering ice that flew through the air. Both goblins in the fore brought their shields around, protecting their heads and torsos, but jagged ice tore open long wounds on their bare legs.

Mikhev's chopping sword slammed a shield aside and his other sword went deep into the goblin's belly, once, twice, and then it was falling away and he brought the other blade down on its head to finish the job.

Gomer tugged at Ira's coat, interrupting him as he gathered himself for a new spell, jabbering something, pointing towards the broken wall only a couple of streets away and stomping his foot.

The patrol.

A chill ran through Ira. "The patrol!" he shouted. "Finish these quickly! Kanoha, with me!" He turned, moving quickly past the adventurers they'd rescued, the red-headed man kneeling on the ground over his burden, the woman watching him with narrowed eyes.

They might have made a mistake. They might have made a terrible mistake.

But that face lingered in his thoughts, tight with pain, blue eyes fixed forward.

Gomer scampering at his side, Ira made his way to the street corner, leaning around it in time to see the goblins finish conferring – three heading back, probably to take the cross street, one with a crossbow and the other two with swords and shields. That left two more with swords and shields and three more with crossbows heading right towards him.

"Kanoha," he murmured. "Go warn them about the three coming on the flank."

He didn't wait to see if Kanoha complied, just gathered himself. There was a lot to use – anxiety, fear, anger, but that strange intensity he felt towards the red-head – that was the strongest of all.

" _Open, gates of the sky_ ," he said to the cold air. " _Loose the incandescent messengers that bear the words of heaven, that balance the firmament and the earth. Let them descend in glowing raiment that blinds the eye as they sing to the world below. Open, and admit them to this realm beneath the clouds."_

It was a long incantation, and he could feel the powerful drain, but he'd only have one chance to surprise the goblin patrol, and he had to make it count.

Thunder echoed down out of the clear sky, rumbling hard enough to make the stone of the building behind him vibrate at his back.

He looked away, but he could see the blaze of light out of the corner of his eye as the earth shook. The effort he'd expended literally left him panting and he had to catch himself on his knees. He could still hear weapons ringing up the street.

He couldn't spare any time to see what was going on. He braced himself on the wall and leaned around the corner. The goblins were getting to their feet.

Well, some of them were. Two of the goblins that had held crossbows were blackened and unmoving, as was one of the goblins that had held a sword and shield. A fourth goblin was crumpled on his side, shaking, shield and sword lying nearby.

That left the two remaining that had held crossbows. Blood was trickling from their ears, but they were up and moving.

"Gomer," Ira said, bending over again. "Go kill them."

Gomer looked up at him, and then hefted his crude sword and rounded the corner at a run.

"You aren't going to do that again, are you?"

The voice was unfamiliar. Ira glanced up to see the female adventurer from the other party looking at him. Her skin was a little lighter in hue than Felicia's, eyes a paler brown, hair pulled back in a tight braid rolled into a bun at the back of her head.

He shook his head. "Can't. That was all I had left."

She nodded, and a little to his surprise, drew her sword and ran around the corner as well.

"Ira, you alright?" Mikhev was suddenly there, his hands on Ira's shoulders, looking him in the eye.

"Did you get the three coming from the flank?" Ira asked as Kanoha jogged past, bow at the ready, Yedani right behind him.

"We did," Mikhev confirmed. "Are you hurt anywhere? Can you move?"

Ira nodded. "I'm fine. It just took a lot out of me."

Mikhev leaned around the corner, head tilting slightly to one side, eyes widening just a bit. "Alright – we should get moving. We don't know how long until more come to investigate."

"Thank you for saving us." The redhead's voice was deep, and slightly hoarse. Soong had healed his wounds so he was able to walk. He was taller than any of them. Ira only came up to the middle of his chest.

They made it away from Damuro without further incident, and night had fallen as they walked, the moon rising in the east and gleaming on the frost-covered boughs of the forest.

"On behalf of our party, you're welcome," Ira replied. "The girls insisted on it. I'm actually glad they did." It wasn't entirely true. Felicia had sort of babbled. Ira didn't count her in much of the way of anything else anyway though, so gender seemed equally irrelevant.

That got a blink. "I'm Dietricht, by the way. The lady with us is Tamiya, our Dark Knight. The Druid is Miguel."

Miguel was slim – lightly muscled, with faintly coppery skin, short dark hair, and eyes that held just a hint of green in the midst of amber.

"We . . . lost our other members today," Dietricht continued. "Our Thief and our Mage."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ira said quietly. It was a little strange, to really feel that way about someone he'd just met – not just that it was unfortunate, but that it had happened to Dietricht in particular.

"We've been fortunate so far," Mikhev said. "We're lucky Ira's such a good strategist. What happened to you?"

"The goblins got the drop on us." Dietricht swallowed. "We were walking across a courtyard, and suddenly they were there on the walls with those damn crossbows, shooting down at us. Ayami – she . . . never had a chance, and then we were running, trying to get out, and Lou . . . they got him in the back with a crossbow bolt, and then one of the goblins . . ." He trailed off.

"That's awful," Panashri said quietly.

"That really _is_ awful," Felicia said, wiping her eyes. "I mean mah gawd, just dead, right in front o' you. And you be wonderin' if you next, and you be so scared, and all tremblin' and prayin' you aint-"

"Yes," Ira said firmly, cutting her off.

"So – that goblin," Dietricht asked after a moment, glancing at Gomer trailing along behind them. "Is he . . . a friend?"

"No." Ira shook his head. "Sorcerers have access to charm magic, so when we go to Damuro, I charm one to act as our scout."

Dietricht blinked, and nodded after a moment. "Oh, I just thought since you gave him a name . . ." He trailed off. "So you release him, or . . ."

"Not exactly." Ira hadn't really wanted Dietricht to see it. It was unreasonably awkward, but the whole business of Gomer . . . Gomer's predecessors also named Gomer . . . it was a little difficult to explain the truth of the matter. "We can't take the chance that he'd communicate with others, tell them about us. He's . . . not the first Gomer. He won't be the last, either." Ira took a deep breath. "If he weren't charmed, then he'd be just as quick to try and kill us as any other goblin. When we're using him as a scout it's . . . just delaying the end result."

"I see." Dietricht glanced back at Gomer again. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

In all honesty it had been a little difficult even before Dietricht. It was the same argument he made to himself each time he told a Gomer to lie down on the ground. At the end of the day, he was willing to trade the lives of their enemies for his life and the lives of his companions.

At the end of each day, he did exactly that.

"Let me do it for you," Tamiya said suddenly. "I need a body part from a kill I've made for a Vice anyway."

Both Ira and Dietricht looked back at her. Ira nodded.

They parted from Dietricht and his party once they were all safely back within Ortana. As much as they made on a daily basis now, a hot bath at the bathhouse was no longer an outlandish expense, and Ira genuinely looked forward to the relaxed scrub in the warm, steamy air, and then a long soak in the baths.

If they'd planned to stay in Ortana over the long term, it might have made sense to actually purchase a living space, but as Ira understood it, there was more coin to be found in other municipalities outside of Ortana once they had their full Volunteer Soldier tags and more experience under their belt. Nevertheless, he wanted to take a look at renting a more comfortable living space as far as a price comparison for what they were spending now and what amenities were available.

He really and truly wanted a place with either actual glazed windows, or at least good shutters inset in the frame. It would be far better than trying to keep in what little heat they had with haphazardly mounted hides as they did now with the trainee quarters they'd been supplied for a slight fee. Some kind of heating system aside from just an oven and a hearth in the kitchen would be a bonus, and if he could find a place that had hot baths in-house, that would definitely maximize its appeal.

They made a stop off at Shelly's Tavern for dinner, and then headed for the Southern Bath House. Ira had made a concerted effort ever since they'd begun using the place to avoid ogling his fellow male party members out of a sense of courtesy. It was easy with Kanoha – he was content to sit by himself and just soak.

It was more difficult with Mikhev on nights when he was in a talkative mood.

No sooner had Ira settled into the water than Mikhev got up, crossing Ira's line of vision and making it impossible to avoid getting an eyeful of his large endowment without making it very apparent that he was trying to do so.

He sat next to Ira and lightly elbowed him in the ribs. "So, that Miguel guy – he struck me as maybe inclined towards your side of the line." His tone was teasing.

Ira just shook his head. "Not a chance."

"Oh come on – you haven't even given him a chance." Mikhev leaned back next to him.

"He's not my type. I wouldn't be surprised if he got friendly with Yedani though." Ira shrugged.

"Shame about his party. Tamiya seems like she's got a good head on her shoulders. That Dietricht guy, though . . ."

"I'd say he's perfectly-" Ira turned, meeting Mikhev's smug grin, and realized he'd just been caught in a trap.

"Well, I'm not surprised you like the muscley ones – you haven't kicked me out of bed after all." Mikhev's grin widened.

Ira looked away, shaking his head. "He's just lost two of his party members. I very much doubt he's in any kind of emotional shape for . . ." Ira trailed off, shaking his head.

"For?" Mikhev prodded, obviously intent on pushing the issue.

Ira gave him a flat look, refusing to say anything further. He was blushing enough as it was.

Mikhev rolled his eyes. "Fine, be stoic then. You and Kanoha both. It's not really fair to the rest though."

There was, it seemed, no end to Mikhev's surprises. "What do you mean, the rest?" Ira asked a little more intently than he'd meant to.

Mikhev shrugged, expression suddenly overly casual. "Well, tonight I plan on going for another walk with Panashri, probably cuddling a little since it'll be so cold and we'll only have each other for warmth, at least until we get back to the kitchen and talk a little over hot cocoa."

Ira sighed. "I don't know why you wanted to share this with me."

"Don't tell me you're jealous." Suddenly Mikhev had an arm around Irving's shoulders. "Don't get me wrong – you're great for warming up and I like sleeping next to you, but you know I'm not into you that way."

Ira glowered at him. "I didn't ask you to start climbing into bed with me in the first place."

"But, like I said, you haven't kicked me out, either." Mikhev's tone remained smug and he gave Ira a brief squeeze. "A big guy like that Dietricht though – I wouldn't want to have to fight him for that spot."

It was strange, how he could keep his head in a fight, make decisions, do what needed doing. Yet here, naked in a bath and miles away from any danger, Ira felt way out of his depth in such an intimate circumstance just talking to Mikhev about romance. He didn't know what to say, how to disengage or turn the tide back on Mikhev to put him on the defensive instead.

"If Soong would just . . . give me a sign," Kanoha said suddenly. "If I could only get her to smile at me, touch me just once on the hand, or even on the shoulder, then I would pursue her. Flowers, gifts – I want to do all of it.

"Ah – that's the curse of men my friend." Mikhev finally left off invading Ira's personal space, standing up with his arms outstretched, somehow utterly confident even utterly exposed, grinning broadly even though he was completely on display in a way that made Ira look away self-consciously. "The women want us to chase them – but our job is figuring out which one wants the chase, and how she wants to be chased. It's not fair, but that's our world! Sure, we might get rejected, but it's exciting finding out!"

"Mikhev – I think you've embarrassed your fellows enough, dear," Panashri called suddenly from the other side of the wall separating the mens' bath from the womens'. "We won't be doing the walking, the cuddling, or the cocoa if you don't get out and dry off so we can go!"

Mikhev blinked, glancing at the wall, and then laughed out loud. "The lady calls, boys," he said, still grinning broadly, and made his way back towards the door.

Ira didn't immediately follow. Kanoha got up after a moment and came over, offering him a hand that was unfortunately on a level with his generously-proportioned groin. Ira looked away as he accepted the hand up.

"Thanks," he said quietly as he waded through the bath after Mikhev.

"You're welcome. It was only a small sacrifice to make to get Mikhev to stop teasing you." Kanoha shrugged as Ira looked up at him, but he was smiling slightly. "It doesn't cost me any face to admit my attraction to a woman. This way too, I'll see if she feels a mutual attraction."

"Ah." Ira nodded, trying to keep his gaze forward.

"Ira." Kanoha stopped.

Ira stopped after a moment as well, looking up at him, trying to keep his gaze firmly fixed above Kanoha's neck. "Yes?"

"I may not speak as freely as Mikhev, but I am no less a man. I am just as flattered as he is when you look at me with appreciation, though I am no more likely to act on it." Kanoha was smiling slightly. It was hard to tell, but he might have been blushing slightly as well. "You don't need to feel awkward or self-conscious with us."

Ira swallowed, because Kanoha or Mikhev might not be embarrassed, but he certainly was. "I – yes. I'll try not to be."

He walked into the changing room and then jumped as Mikhev's large, broad hand swatted him lightly on the left butt-cheek and squeezed, unable to stop from staring at him wide-eyed, face hot enough to be almost literally aflame.

Mikhev just gave him that same broad grin, bright blue eyes twinkling. "It's okay – I know you like my junk. I'd say it's almost a pity a nice ass like yours isn't on a woman, but to each his own."

Kanoha cleared his throat. "We shouldn't keep the women waiting."

However much he tried to show it, Ira was decidedly scandalized by what had happened. Thankfully no one seemed to be paying that much attention. They were no sooner out the door than Soong casually put her hand on the inside of Kanoha's elbow.

He paused, giving her an intense look, and then smiled, cocking his arm and putting his other hand over hers, getting a small smile in return.

"Aww, y'all so _cute_!" Felicia said loudly with another of those big, sweeping, two-handed gestures, a big, dumb smile on her face.

If nothing else, the never-ending irritation she generated helped Ira recover his composure, enough that he was able to look away and roll his eyes.

When Mikhev climbed into bed with Ira as usual later that night, Ira gave serious thought to kicking him out. Mikhev didn't say anything, just pressed himself up against Ira's back, arm around his middle, breathing dropping almost immediately into the deep, even rhythms of sleep.

Ira thought about kicking him out, but he didn't.

They saw Dietricht at Shelly's Tavern the next night following after they'd gotten back from their most recent expedition to old Damuro. Ira had to resist the unfamiliar urge to approach him. He wasn't even sure what he'd say. Dietricht didn't look any happier than he had the night before. It was difficult for Ira not to keep looking for him in the crowd, see how he was doing, see if his expression was still as frustrated and downcast as before, and he didn't always manage it.

They'd no sooner finished their meal then Mikhev got up, gaze going to Ira. "I guess I have to be the one to talk to him then if you won't." He was gone before Ira could even think of a response, moving through the other patrons with hands on shoulders and murmured greetings.

He was good with people, Ira realized suddenly. A little freewheeling, a little loose – sometimes too much, but there was something that people liked about him – something even Ira liked about him. It let him get in close. It had certainly let him get in close to Ira.

Dietricht looked over as Mikhev socked him lightly on the shoulder, expression not really becoming welcoming, but he looked like he was listening. Mikhev gestured towards the bar, and they moved in that direction.

There was something in Ira that urged him to get up, follow them, and find out what they were talking about. He had to clamp down on it to stay where he was.

"What's he doin'?" Felicia asked. "Ain't that the guy from yesterday with the dead friends?"

Ira wanted to hit her.

Or throw his drink at her.

Or even just do both at the same time and hit her with his drink, which would be eminently satisfying but for the fact that it would be a waste of coin and as busy as it was, he wouldn't get a refill quickly.

"Felicia," he said, trying to keep a grip on his temper. "Shut _up_."

She looked back at him, opened her mouth, and then paused, big animal eyes scanning his face, some base instinct probably warning her of the overwhelming likelihood of disproportionate violence being meted out despite the associated cost. "Fine, geeze," she muttered.

He almost hit her with the drink anyway, but she subsided, staring down at what was left of her dinner. Ira looked away, and as he did he caught a glimpse of a smile appearing briefly on Yedani's face. It was hard to say if it was amused, or satisfied, or both.

"Okay, well I'm goin' home y'all." Felicia stood. She turned away from the table and then stopped, looking around. "Y'all gonna make me walk home by myself?"

"I think you'll be just fine," Soong said casually. "It's not dangerous as long as you stay in town – just a little cold. We'll come looking for you if we have to."

That last part struck Ira as interesting. Not _need_ to, but _have_ to. It was subtle, but he suspected that he wasn't the only one who'd gotten his fill of Felicia's flair for the dramatic and the grossly irritating. There was clearly more to Soong than healing spells and a pretty face.

Felicia hesitated a moment more, gaze sweeping the table, and then turned and walked away. Ira couldn't help it. He sat back, relaxing. His gaze went back to where Mikhev was still talking with Dietricht at the bar. They had mugs in their hands. Dietricht didn't look any happier than before. He looked down. His shoulders started to shake slightly.

Ira was half up out of his seat before he realized that Dietricht was smiling slightly, and sat back down, not missing the way he'd attracted looks from everyone but Kanoha, and that probably because Kanoha was trying to be polite.

"Dietricht is not unattractive," Panashri noted before taking a sip from her mug of ale.

"No," Ira replied, trying to regain a semblance of dignity. "He certainly isn't."

Yedani and Soong shared knowing looks.

Ira steadfastly refused to ask Mikhev what he and Dietricht had talked about on the walk back. It was difficult, almost painful, but he held in his desperate desire to know. After all, maybe he and Dietricht had been talking about women. They could have been.

It was one of those things Ira knew without knowing how, that there were a great many more men and women who preferred the opposite sex than those who enjoyed their own. As probabilities went, it was likely that Dietricht was exactly the same.

"It's _almost_ more fun to leave you hanging in suspense," Mikhev said as they were almost back to their quarters. "Except I know you'll never say a word."

"He's not the only one you're keeping in suspense." Panashri had her hand in Mikhev's. She gave their hands a swing. "I too would like to know what the two of you discussed at such great length."

"Well, you know how some parties – like ours – start out with less than the full eight." Mikhev glanced at the sky. "People divide themselves up by how they feel comfortable without even really understanding who they're banding together with, sort of on instinct – even just a guess or a hunch."

"I think we all went with Ira because he seemed very strong. We certainly turned out to be right." Panashri leaned forward and smiled at Ira.

"I thought it was because I seemed like a good man," Mikhev shot her a mildly aggrieved look.

"Who also chose to go with Ira because he was strong," Panashri replied without missing a beat.

"Well – true enough." Mikhev elbowed Ira gently. "Anyway, it turns out Dietricht started out with six members in his party too. One of them was a martial artist, in fact."

Ira blinked. "But he only mentioned a Thief and a Mage – Ayami and Lou."

"Heard the names once and you still remember them." Mikhev's eyebrows rose slightly. "I didn't think you were that much of a people person, Ira. Anyway – they had a Martial Artist. Dumb as a box of rocks evidently, but very brave, very enthusiastic. He apparently got killed pretty early on though."

Given the combination, Ira wasn't terribly surprised by that. "His party's morbid casualty record aside, what else did you talk about?"

"This and that." Mikhev shrugged, looking ahead. "Apparently the three of them were running low on coin already, and funerals, cremations – those don't come cheap. A silver for each – that's two silvers for the Martial Artist early on, and then it'll be four for the other two. Not to mention they had to sneak in and collect the corpses today before the No Life King's magic could get a grip on them and turn them into walking dead."

Ira stopped short. "What do you mean – you – they – they went _back_?!" He couldn't help the incredulity in his voice. They were three, down from five – and they were hardly in any condition to face the goblins in Damuro proper. The three of them would probably have trouble with an equal number of goblins that they met outside the city, to say nothing of the almost certain encounter with one of the four member squads or eight member platoons inside.

Mikhev stopped as well but didn't meet Ira's gaze, looking up and past him instead as he reached up and scratched his chin, grimacing slightly. "Well, they had help, but that came at a price too. The Aizu Clan only charged them ten silvers, but . . ." He shrugged. "Dietricht's party is running on fumes. He's having a hard time finding replacements at the moment."

Ira turned away, walking quickly, thoughts awhirl. There was absolutely no way that Dietricht's party could have done as well as his own, not with only five members, not unless they were extremely skilled, but if they were _that_ good then they wouldn't be in this much trouble in the first place.

The two silvers right from the start – that would have impacted their ability to improve gear and afford training in skills early on, and dropping their number to five would have markedly impaired their ability to earn in both the short and long term. They hadn't replaced that sixth member either. On top of it, fourteen silvers was not a trivial amount of coin even for Ira's party. It would have hit a party two members less with inferior equipment and learned skills even harder.

Well, one and a half if one considered Felicia's real worth, but the math worked out almost as equally bad.

Ira would be downright surprised if between the three of them, they had more than just enough coppers to rub together to afford the pittance of rent asked for the Trainee quarters they'd been assigned, to say nothing of getting enough to actually eat to avoid starving. The three of them _had_ looked decidedly lean, but Ira hadn't really attributed any significance to that until now.

He'd no sooner crossed the threshold of their little domicile's courtyard than looked up at it and realized he was thinking it _could_ conceivably accommodate three more, at least until he was ready for the step he'd already been contemplating next anyway.

Eight was a full party – thus the eight beds. With Tamiya there would be four girls in the womens' bunk room, putting it at capacity. Mikhev really shared a bed with Ira anyway, which technically left two beds available in the mens', and the addition of Dietricht and Miguel would put theirs at capacity at well. It would be a bit on the crowded side, but not too far beyond what the place was technically designed to handle.

No, he realized after a moment – Felicia also had a bed in the womens' bunk room. Was there really no end to how incredibly inconvenient she could be?! Maybe if they stuck her in a closet somewhere . . . they had a closet, didn't they? He was reasonably certain the one under the stairs across from the kitchen could accommodate someone.

"Soong and I have actually been sharing a bed anyway," Panashri said as she stopped next to him. "Tamiya would certainly be welcome to the extra."

"I was thinking perhaps we could convince Felicia to take the closet under the stairs, but that works just as well," Ira replied, only half-listening. He blinked, and shot her a side-long look.

Panashri gave him a slightly abashed smile, holding up her hands. "We talked among ourselves while you were walking ahead."

"Going over eight members will mean starting a clan." Ira turned, looking at all of them. "We'll be at ten. Well, technically we'll be at ten."

Mikhev grinned broadly, hands resting on his hips. "See, everyone? I told you Ira was going to take us places."

"Not until the third day. You started out as scared of him as the rest of us as I recall," Kanoha said, one eyebrow rising.

One the one hand, Ira was a little flattered. On the other, maybe he wanted just a _little_ more fear back into them to keep them from teasing him as much as they had been over the course of the day.

"With good reason," he said perfectly evenly.

 _That_ got everyone's attention. Ira waited until he was facing away from them to let a smile creep across his features.

Mikhev still got into bed with him later though.

"You might not want to be _quite_ so tough with Dietricht," he murmured in Ira's ear. "He doesn't know you like I do."

"I could still kick you out of bed," Ira muttered back.

"Yeah, but you won't," Mikhev said through a yawn as he nestled up against Ira.

Ira didn't kick him out of bed. He could have. He told himself he could.

But he didn't.

The sun was almost above the peaks by the time Dietricht's diminished party arrived at the forest gate where Ira waited with the members of his own party.

The big Knight slowed as he caught sight of them, and then pressed forward, the first shafts of sunlight waking a dull red gleam in his short hair, stubble on his face lengthened to the point where it shadowed the lower half of his face and part of his neck.

His deep blue eyes settled on Ira, and he inclined his head slightly. "Good morning," he said in that deep voice.

Ira tried not to show how much the sound of those words affected him, almost like the vibrations caressed something deep within. He nodded crisply. "You're almost late. We should get going."

Dietricht blinked. Miguel looked startled, glancing at Ira, and then at Dietricht, and then back. Tamiya's brow furrowed slightly, expression clearing a moment later.

Ira looked at Mikhev. "I'd assumed you'd told him you'd convince me."

Mikhev shrugged, and for once, he reddened slightly. "I might have left that part out." He cleared his throat. "Not that I had any doubt."

Of all the things to do, Dietricht grimaced, and Ira felt the bottom of his stomach fall out, because he'd evidently misjudged the situation.

"I uh-" Dietricht looked down, reaching up and running his right hand over the back of his head. "This isn't how I pictured it – us – I mean . . ." He abruptly closed his eyes for a moment, then stepped forward and took Ira's right hand in his left, looking down at him. "Thank you."

"He . . . wanted to impress you," Tamiya said suddenly. "Ever since the first time he saw you." She might have been blushing slightly. It was hard to tell.

Dietricht _was_ blushing, but he had a slight smile on his face, blue eyes bashful. "Yeah."

"Oh." Ira tried to think of something to say, realized he couldn't think of anything, particularly in light of the events of the day before yesterday, and paused. There was a moment of awkward silence. "I'm sure you will," he said as firmly as he could manage, looking up at Dietricht.

To his surprise, Dietricht smiled at him.

Ira realized _he_ was starting to blush, but at the same time, he didn't want to let go of Dietricht's hand either. He gestured with his free hand to the packed dirt track that led away from Ortana. "Let's talk on the way."

Ira was only half-listening to Dietricht as they walked – not that what he was saying wasn't important – it was personal, the way he'd been feeling like he'd let his party down, how it was a lot different than they'd all thought it would be when they started out, how they'd been so careful and yet in the end they'd still suffered loss. It wasn't an uncommon story, as Ira understood it. Volunteer Soldier lives were often brutal, poor, and short. It was the nature of the lives they led. The weak were either sheltered by the strong they supported, or fell, and sometimes even the strong fell with them.

Most of Ira's attention was on Dietricht's equipment though. The Knight's armor was barely any better than Mikhev's had been at the beginning – a full mail shirt, a full-torso breastplate that was only steel in the front with a leather back, a knee-length mail skirt with leather backing over his trousers, and his sword actually _was_ the one he'd been given when he'd joined the Knights. The only halfway decent piece of gear in his possession was the massive shield he carried slung across his back.

Miguel was dressed in soft brown leather – a leather jacket over his green tunic, leather breeches, knee-high lace-up leather boots – none of it looked thick enough to provide much real protection, and his only weapon was a shillelagh that hung from his belt. He was, Ira was reasonably sure, something akin to a Priest in job function, but he didn't look any better prepared than Dietricht.

Tamiya was about as well equipped as the other two, with a charcoal gray iron breastplate and shoulder-guard over a mail shirt that came down just far enough to reach her waist on top of her hip-length red coat, legs protected by layered leather pads stitched on to the thighs of her brown leather trousers, brown boots calf-high.

They hadn't done well in coin, not unless they spent far more on obtaining skills than Ira expected, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that was the case. Enough coppers to rub together to pay rent might have been giving the situation a more favorable view than was owed.

"So y'all joinin' us," Felicia was saying towards the back of the group, voice boisterously loud and overtly enthusiastic. "That's real nice, y'all. Be great havin' y'all with us. Y'all gonna fit right in."

"We can make this work," Ira said, looking up and meeting Dietricht's gaze. "We will."

Dietricht drew in a deep breath and let it out, looking down briefly before meeting Ira's gaze once more. "I believe it."

He sounded like he was really trying hard to. Ira meant to see that determination to fruition.

They crossed into Damuro with little trouble, slipping in between the patrols, covering their tracks in the snow with the aid of a few pine branches to sweep them into oblivion, and crept into the ruins just as they had many times before. They ambushed a goblin squad, and Gomer joined their ranks once more.

Though Dietricht and Tamiya weren't as well equipped, they were no slouches in a fight. That Miguel had a Druidic spell that could actually hold an enemy in place was a pleasant surprise, and he was attentive. They did, as Ira had feared, also lack the breadth of skills of his own party members, but that could be rectified in time. They were far more effective than Felicia, but Ira had more or less expected that. It was easier to take down goblin squads – they pinned down platoons of eight and decimated them in minutes.

A little after the noon hour they stopped to rest, recoup their strength, and count their earnings. The results were promising. Dietricht, Miguel, and Tamiya were cautious, understandably so, but that didn't by any means keep them from pulling their own weight. It was enough and more than enough to compensate for Felicia's noticeably decreased effort.

Still, Ira couldn't genuinely claim to have expected any different.

It was not quite mid-afternoon and they were crossing a courtyard, taking a roundabout path both to bypass rubble blocking a street and also to flank another goblin position, when Gomer began acting strangely.

Well, acting and _looking_ strangely really. For one thing, he was hovering a little behind Ira, eyes darting around, likely having circled back around using the opposite street to keep an eye for any goblins trying to flank the party as he was supposed to.

Kanoha was at the opposite end of the courtyard, keeping watch as the party members jogged across one at a time. Panashri was almost all the way across – only Soong, Dietricht, and Felicia were waiting with Ira.

Ira glanced back at Gomer. There _was_ something odd about him – something about the eyes and the shape of the face. Hadn't they been different earlier in the morning? Perhaps it was just his imagination. He felt uneasy though.

"Gomer," he said absently. "Go scout."

That was when Gomer did something very strange that none of his predecessors had ever done before. He looked up at Ira, incomprehension in his dull eyes – incomprehension and something else.

It was gone, Ira realized abruptly. The little piece of crystal in his mind that belonged to Gomer, that was his subjugated spirit, was gone.

At some point it had vanished in the same way as it had every day after he'd told Gomer to lie down in the snow, pulled back his head, and shoved his knife into Gomer's throat, the same as it had when Yedani taken over doing it because she could do it cleanly with a single stroke instead of the awful gurgling noise Gomer had made before as he bled out and died each day.

Ira heard snow crunch behind him, like the sound of realization in his mind.

" _Hear me."_ The resistance was suddenly there. Ira felt his heart skip a beat. " _Know me._ " He crushed that resistance with brutal efficiency. " _Heed me._ "

He felt the spell sink home, a new Gomer taking the place of one that had died without him even realizing it.

"Kanoha!" he shouted as he whirled. " _Soong!"_

Soong had stopped only a little ways away. Gomer was screeching something, but Ira already saw them, shadows on the walls, conical caps on little green heads rising almost in slow motion, crossbows already loaded.

Soong was too far away, too far for Ira to grab her and pull her back into cover. She was beyond his reach.

Felicia wasn't.

Ira put his shoulder into her back and shoved with everything in him. He sprawled forward in the snow as she windmilled forward, knocking Soong down, the startled noise Soong made as she was bowled over and Felicia fell on top of her punctuated by the click of eight crossbows.

Felicia jerked as quarrels slammed deep into her body, and went limp.

"Dietricht," Ira said more calmly than he felt, scrambling to his feet and getting into the cover of the archway at their back. "Get Soong."

For a wonder, Dietricht didn't question him, just moved, massive shield held above him as goblins reloaded their crossbows and took aim.

" _Come, Spirit of Ravenous Flame. Take form, and become my armament_." Ira let the words roll through him, let them drink deep of his strength. He moved to where he could see around a corner without being too exposed, not letting himself be distracted by the sight of more crossbow quarrels ricocheting off of Dietricht's shield even though it made his belly tighten. " _Strike."_

Flaming spears with the heads of serpents hissed through the air, finding eyes, throats, chests, bellies. Three goblins toppled, not rising again, a fourth screaming and clutching its blackened arm as its brethren sought cover. Kanoha's bow thrummed on the opposite side of the courtyard, and though Ira couldn't see the strike, a death rattle echoed across the courtyard.

Dietricht was gently levering Felicia's body aside with one hand, crouching low over Soong to give both of them as much cover as possible beneath the shield on his other arm.

There was a shriek and the sound of something giving way with a wet sound like crockery breaking in a sodden burlap bag from behind Ira, and he turned to see a massive goblin at least as tall as Dietricht lift its gory club from the spattered mess that was left of Gomer's shattered skull.

Dietricht was suddenly there, and Ira could feel the wind of his passing, shield smashing right into the massive goblin's face, knocking it backward off its feet and on top of two of its normal-sized kin as Dietricht drew his sword.

Ira didn't waste the opportunity. " _Hear me_ ," he said, feeling his will butting up against a goblin's once more, this mind stronger than the last, but still nowhere close to a match for Ira's even on his worst day, and especially not the way he was feeling now. " _Know me. Heed me._ "

The big goblin staggered halfway to its feet, looking mildly dazed. The two smaller goblins were still clambering up, backing warily away.

"Gomer," Ira said breathlessly. "Kill them."

Gomer let out a howl as he turned and brought down his club.

"Dietricht," Tamiya said quietly afterward as the others were arranging Felicia's body, the broken ends of the crossbow quarrels that had taken her life tossed aside. "Isn't that one of the four goblin captains from the bounty board?"

Gomer crouched a short distance away, awaiting orders.

Ira looked away from where Yedani was gently folding Felicia's hands over her chest, following their gazes to the big goblin before returning his attention to the others.

Besides the eight goblins on the wall and the two that had been slain by the most recent iteration of Gomer, there had been five others waiting at the far end of the courtyard. It had been a hard fight, but fortunately Tamiya and Mikhev had been able to check the brunt of the sword goblins' ambush with Panashri's support. They'd taken wounds, but Miguel's regenerative Druid magic had kept them on their feet and prevented them from bleeding too profusely, and Yedani had been able to wreak havoc in the close, tight quarters while Kanoha kept the few remaining crossbow goblins pinned down at their positions until Ira, Gomer, Dietricht, and Soong could sweep the second story and end them.

All told, including the false Gomer, there'd been a total of seventeen goblins. That was four squads, which added up to two goblin platoons plus one extra. Their leader had been smart, and he'd obviously not only seen and eliminated the previous Gomer, but understood his function well enough to plant a double that Ira hadn't even noticed until it was nearly too late. That last part was the most worrisome.

Likely the goblin would have waited until Ira was distracted to put its sword through his ribs, and with him and Soong down, that would have left only Felicia and Dietricht to face off against the three coming at their back. After that they'd have closed with the remaining members of the party to finish the slaughter.

"It could be Gruesome Maul. We'd have to check for the scar to be sure, but I think that can wait," Dietricht replied just as quietly.

"Yeah, but we should probably say something. It's a five gold bounty for each captain," Tamiya murmured back. "Ten for this one if he's actually who we think."

A goblin captain, and one of four. Even without hearing about the bounty, Ira would have been intent on killing the current Gomer when they were done. If he was indeed the leader who'd orchestrated the ambush, perhaps even positioned the goblins a couple of blocks away as bait, then he was far too dangerous to let live.

For that matter, if any of the others were equally as clever, then removing them was a priority for more immediate reasons than even the seductive gleam of that kind of cold, hard cash. This one had been sly enough by himself. Facing more than one with a grasp of tactics and a devious mind could very well end up being quite deadly.

Facing this one certainly had been for at least one among their number.

Felicia looked strangely peaceful in death. It was as if the stillness gave her a dignity she'd never possessed in life, the dumb, panicky animal eyes forever shut, the lips of her large mouth only slightly parted instead of spread wide to loose banal inanity upon all and sundry within auditory range, broad hips and rangy legs never to carry her along in that strange, rolling lope ever again.

It felt a little odd, though not in a bad way, knowing that he'd never feel the urge to hit her with something blunt or even something sharp again, never feel the urge to push her down a steep flight of stairs, or down a well, or off a bridge, never again want to choke her with a turkey leg from her meal, or strangle her, or just leave her unconscious out in the wild somewhere to die of exposure or an animal or goblin attack.

Actually, a small part of him felt like it was almost a shame – not that he wanted her back, but because she'd finally been in a position to do something for the party, and it had only been the one, single opportunity, ending any possibility of future usefulness, however slight, for good.

Realistically he knew it was vanishingly unlikely that they'd find themselves in an identical set of circumstances where she'd be able to act once again as a human shield anyway, especially given the manner in which she'd served this time and subsequent knowledge of Ira's likely recourse, but it just seemed like a waste nonetheless, especially when one considered not only her lost earning potential, which though admittedly not stellar, had become at least comparatively significant, not to mention the resources she'd already consumed in being brought this far.

They'd all agreed that trying to take her body back with them would slow them down and possibly endanger someone, but the goblin crossbows didn't sell very well anyway – no one wanted the wood, and they had precious little metal – so they would serve as impromptu pyre fuel and she'd almost certainly be ash or satisfactorily close to it by the time the fire burned out just the same, and really, what was a funeral at the end of the day except for a time for people to say their goodbyes? For her part, Felicia was well and truly beyond caring at this point, whether one believed in an afterlife, or reincarnation, or some combination of both or neither.

Looking at her lying there though, Ira couldn't help but be aware of how the others probably regarded him. He didn't regret his decision in the slightest, but he could definitely see how it might change perceptions of him. They'd all of them known that he utterly despised Felicia, but there was no denying that he'd crossed a line in using her as he had to save Soong's life. Ultimately, it didn't matter, but he well and truly wished it hadn't had to have happened this way, if for no reason other than it might put the rest of them unreasonably in fear for their own lives in similar situations.

In the end though, it was just another price paid for their survival, another expense paid to give them another day. He had used her life just like he expended Gomer's at the close of every expedition. He had traded Felicia's life for Soong's, and counted his party the richer for having been able to satisfy that balance in the coin he had tendered.

Soong bent almost tenderly over Felicia's body. "Thank you for saving my life. I really am sorry that it cost you yours in the doing," she said quietly.

"You . . . lived your life with spirit and enthusiasm," Panashri said next, before moving to join Soong, Kanoha, and Mikhev a little farther away.

"You taught me how to feel compassion for someone less fortunate," Yedani said, looking down at the body before walking away as well.

Miguel took her place, pausing next to Felicia's corpse, cleared his throat, grimaced slightly, and then walked on as well, head down in very apparent embarrassment.

"You were . . . kinda extra, girl." Tamiya half-shrugged as she stopped by the body next. "But I don't think you were a bad person. Peace."

Only Dietricht and Ira were left. Dietricht looked like he was thinking hard. Ira resisted the urge to tell him that the occasion didn't really call for that kind of effort. There was no sense in being overtly crass, and the Knight had to have a poor enough opinion of him at this point anyway. There was no telling what damage he'd just done to Dietricht's still-forming perception of him, and this kind of impression was likely a lasting one.

"I truly think you meant well," the red-haired Knight said finally, looking down at Felicia's still form. "I could tell just from meeting you that you lived your life the best way that you knew how. Maybe you weren't the bravest, the smartest, the quickest, or the most successful - but you tried. You didn't give up. It's easy to quit when things get hard, and some of us have it harder than others, but you got up every day, and you kept at it. That takes guts. You did what you could, and I respect you for that."

Ira was left staring at Dietricht, not in skepticism or in disbelief, but rather a little humbled, and just a little ashamed of his own uncharitable thoughts in the face of seeing a perfect stranger who'd really never known Felicia find a kind word for her and give a eulogy that really wasn't that bad.

Of course, there _was_ the fact that they'd been very nearly perfect strangers in the first place, but it still spoke very eloquently about Dietricht's depth of character.

Ira stopped next to her last of all, rubbing his hands together, feeling the heat of friction, not even needing words for the little wisp of a spell he'd built up as he held up his hands and blew across his palms, a half-dozen little flamelets spinning along his breath and falling to catch on Felicia's red sweater and start a merry little blaze.

"Well," he said mildly as the first tendrils of smoke began to rise toward the afternoon sky, "Bye, Felicia."


	3. Chapter 3: Dynamics & Ruthless Hearts

**Author's Notes:** **Sex. Smut. It's here.**

* * *

Chapter 3

Relationship Dynamics

Ruthless Hearts

They didn't immediately leave Damuro. For one thing, it turned out that Gomer really _was_

the goblin captain formerly known as Gruesome Maul. Well, Ira supposed he was technically _still_ Gruesome Maul, but now he answered to Gomer or whatever else Ira really cared to call him.

It struck him as interesting, the way that Gomer always understood him completely, but in communicating back, they had to use a different means – he couldn't simply understand what the goblin, or any goblin for that matter, was actually trying to communicate. So far the best medium he'd found was little pictograms.

"There's no doubting the scar on his neck," Tamiya said, gaze fixed on Gomer, eyes alight with the expectation of abundant financial remuneration. "He's definitely Gruesome Maul."

Right at the moment the Gomer formerly known as Gruesome Maul was busy outlining all the defensive information he had on the goblin captain he considered his nearest rival in skill and strength. He _was_ clever, and Ira gained more of an appreciation for that cleverness even as it sent chills down his spine, because Gomer had already drawn up plans for attacking his rival if an opportunity presented itself.

Of course, he was now down three full platoons, the two lost in the failed courtyard ambush and the third in the relatively intact building they were now planning strategy in, but adventurers had access to more than just swords, shields, and crossbows.

The trick would be drawing this second captain into a vulnerable position, because if he was fully entrenched and barricaded, it would be extremely difficult to get at him behind the two and a half platoons he had guarding his fortified position at any given time, not counting the possibility of reinforcements from the squads reporting in fresh off of their patrols.

They wouldn't get a second change at this, if for no other reason than Ira was bound and determined that this Gomer would meet the same fate as the others before they left Damuro. Gruesome Maul was just too dangerous to leave alive.

"What's the best way for us to kill him?" Ira finally asked Gomer plainly.

Gomer looked at him, gave him a downright _intelligent_ look that was almost enough to make Ira shiver, and then pointed at himself.

"So you'll be the one to kill him." Ira cocked his head slightly.

The Gomer formerly known as Gruesome Maul nodded and grinned a bloodthirsty grin.

Their attack on the second goblin captain became, perhaps unsurprisingly, not an attack at all, but an ambush. As far as Ira could tell, the goblins didn't have a clear military order like a normal army, more of a hierarchy determined by strength, wits, and a little bit of politics. Gruesome Maul and his peers were almost as much rivals as allies. He wouldn't be able to simply walk into his fellow's stronghold, sit down for tea, and then kill him while he bent over to take the pot off the hearth.

If that fellow received word that his rival captain had suffered grievous losses though, it wouldn't be at all unlikely for him to pay a visit to gloat, or just as likely, eliminate said rival before he could rebuild his strength and forces to gain prestige and the command of whatever forces remained to him.

Their plan would be simple to execute, but would require preparation. For one thing, the other captain had to actually get word that Gruesome Maul had suffered such a defeat, and the easiest and least suspicious way to do that would be for Gomer to press-gang goblins into his service, whereupon it was highly likely that a scout would carry word, if not one of those conscripted goblins themselves. Gomer knew where to go to make sure that word would get to his rival.

On the one hand, it made Ira _extremely_ nervous to let this particular Gomer out of his sight even if he knew from experience that the distance wouldn't necessarily break the Charm enchantment. On the other, there was work to be done in the fortified remains of the villa that Gomer had been using as his base of operations.

Tamiya and Dietricht speculated on which of the other three goblin captains from the bounty board this particular trap would actually bring in, but it wasn't as though Gomer really had the tools to say. He had no way of knowing what nicknames he or his peers had been given by the human opposition for one thing, or what characteristics they'd have identified to get them on the board in the first place.

The most likely time of arrival for the yet-nameless captain would be towards evening, after the humans were normally headed back to Ortana. Patrols could be relaxed, headcounts taken, and preparations made for when the humans returned in the morning. Limited supplies were also delivered from the newer part of Damuro on occasion after full night had fallen.

It looked as though it had actually been a rather picturesque city in its heyday before it had fallen to the goblins, Ira found himself thinking as they waited in Gruesome Maul's stronghold for the last of the day to draw to a close. There were still lovely parts even in its current state of ruin. Ira and the others waited upstairs in a gallery that overlooked the central room where Gomer waited for his rival, lying back on an old divan with its upholstery tattered and discolored.

He'd browbeat his handful of minions into taking up guard positions outside for the sake of appearances more than anything else. Ira and the rest would remain out of sight of them and the expected arrivals on the upper level until their quarry was in position, at which point the rest of the party would take up their positions.

They came with true twilight, the doors crashing open with a loud boom. The one who was clearly their leader walked at the head of half a dozen goblins – the other twelve likely positioned outside and along the hallway. The rival captain was a pale shade of blue unlike Gomer's gray, a long-handled chopping axe in one hand, what looked like a reinforced meat hook with a cross-guard in the other. He sneered, calling something out as Gomer got slowly to his feet, picking up his club.

Any minute now.

Gomer called something back, not moving from where he stood.

Any minute now, Ira thought, nervousness ticking up a notch.

The other goblin captain turned his head slightly to one side, a pair of his subordinates leveling crossbows.

The sound of breaking wood carried in from the hallway, and with a low _throom_ , fire burst in through the door, flames curling at the lintel.

They'd been able to scavenge a total of two small kegs of lamp oil, one of which was now burning merrily in the doorway, the other hopefully discouraging entry from the outside, the two fires together intended to divide up the enemy goblin force.

Their plan rested on the relative intelligence, or more accurately, lack thereof, of the common rank and file goblin, which with any luck wouldn't be quick-witted enough to put out the fires before they could really grow to an effective size. The others would kill any goblins positioned in the hall, and then take another route into the main room.

Gomer had been fully confident in his ability to kill his peer. It was Ira's job to support him in making sure that none of the other goblins was able to effectively interfere.

Some of the goblins had turned their attention to the sudden blaze behind them. Others looked up, towards the gallery where Ira stood as half a dozen spears of flame crackled to life around him. The two goblins with the crossbows at the ready were mortally wounded with his first volley, a third still alive but almost certainly out of the fight as it screamed incoherently and rolled on the floor with the upper half of its face charred and smoldering.

Unfortunately Ira had yet to master hitting more than two or three moving targets at once, which left three goblins with swords and shields on the ground level alongside their captain to face off against Gomer. The odds weren't good. Ira went about evening them.

The captain, with no shield like those of his subordinates, had to dodge Ira's flame spears, while those subordinates huddled behind theirs. Gomer didn't hesitate for a moment, grabbing the shield away from one of the lesser goblins and bringing his club down, collarbone and several upper ribs shattering beneath the blow.

Gomer brought the shield up in time to catch the modified meat hook, and then the other captain was backpedaling out of the way of Ira's spears. Ira ignored the black look of fury that came his way and flung another spear at one of the lesser goblins, forcing it to duck behind its shield. Gomer brought his club around, the force of his blow sending the other subordinate sailing into the air to land, dazed, where Ira promptly finished it.

He tried not to be concerned that he hadn't seen any of his companions yet. It had only been a couple of precious minutes, and they were fighting without his raw power to back them.

The enemy captain growled and kicked his remaining subordinate in the posterior, jerking his head towards Gomer, and charged, evidently hoping that the two of them could take Gomer down quickly enough to escape. It was Gomer's turn to back up, and the last shield goblin exposed its back to Ira as it turned to keep Gomer in front of it.

Ira didn't waste the opportunity.

He had to give the enemy goblin captain credit – he didn't quit and he was canny, moving quickly to Gomer's flank, obviously trying to put his rival between him and Ira, not foolish enough to try and turn and run which would mean a certain deathblow from behind.

Ira waited, not conjuring any more flame spears, conserving his remaining energy, tension beginning to ramp up, not from the fight below, which would come to a close one way or the other soon, but from the fact that no one else had yet showed.

Gomer remained on the defensive, shield on one arm, club at the ready in the other, either waiting for an opening or waiting for Ira to make one. Ira fought the urge to leave Gomer to handle the fight and check on the others. He wasn't willing to let the Gomer formerly known as Gruesome Maul out of his sight, wasn't willing to risk his survival or that of the enemy captain.

Gomer moved suddenly, leading with his shield rather than his club, ramming the enemy captain right back into the wall, backing up and bringing his club around only for the meat hook to intercept it, sinking into the wood. He brought his shield up again, but was fended off by an awkward but still effective kick to the shield's face, and that axe came swinging down.

Gomer brought the shield up to block it, club still caught fast on the meathook, took a kick to the midsection that hardly seemed to faze him, and flung the shield behind him, catching the axe as it came down again. The two of them strained for a moment, and then Gomer suddenly pivoted, muscles in his arms and shoulders bunching, and threw his adversary to roll across the floor.

The enemy captain kept his grip on his meat hook, which came free of the club with the pop and groan of splintered wood, but lost his grip on the axe, scrambling to his feet, backing away. Gomer charged, bringing the axe around in a sideswing that the meathook caught, the enemy's other arm raised to protect his head as the club came around from the opposite direction.

Bone broke with an audible crunch, and the enemy captain staggered, bringing the hand with the meat hook around to ward off the next blow, which hit right below the wrist, the arm bending in a place it wasn't supposed to.

Gomer dropped the axe, got a two-handed grip on his club, and simply started bringing it down on his opponent until he stopped moving, stopped breathing, lay still and broken on the dusty floor. Smoke was starting to fill the room, curling along the ceiling.

"Gomer!" Ira called. "With me! Take their valuables and bring the captain's body!"

Ira felt his heart skip a beat when he felt the tiniest bit of resistance flicker ever so briefly within the crystal in his mind that was Gomer's imprisoned will, and for a fraction of a moment it was Gruesome Maul that looked back at him with black eyes full of blood lust.

Then it was gone.

Ira ran along the gallery, and it was only as he went through the hallway to the connecting room that he could hear steel ringing off of steel from somewhere on the floor below over the growing crackle of flame. He was coming down the stairs just as Yedani reached the bottom of them, and she grabbed his hand and pulled.

"One of the other captains came with him," she said loudly as they jogged away from the stairs, tugging him into a corridor. "He was waiting out in the hallway with his entourage. We couldn't hold them, so we had to give ground. I don't think he knows he's blocking the way out, because he has the goblins standing their ground. If we don't get out we're all going to burn alive in here!"

A door burst open to Ira's left and Yedani jerked to a stop, knife flashing in the light of the lamp in her hand, but it was Gomer, not a sign of the resurgent goblin captain evident in his face but for that discomfiting intelligence. He had the other captain's body over his shoulders, club and axe in one hand, the meat hook in the other giving him a grip on his burden.

Yedani broke into a jog once more and Ira labored to keep up with her, the smell of smoke all around them. Two more doors and they came to another hallway. Dietricht, Mikhev, and Tamiya were at the fore, bloodied but standing, motions quick and cognizant. Panashri was standing on a box, gleaming light forming a delicate tracery before her as she worked a spell.

A seething mass of goblins blocked the other end of the hall in front of the rubble that marked its end. At their rear, a rather rotund goblin with a tall halberd that didn't look to have seen much use was squalling what sounded like orders. He let out a noise that couldn't possibly have been an order though when Ira's flame spears crackled to life and started plunging into the goblin ranks, pressed so close together it was impossible to miss. Ira was tiring just a little, coughing beginning to take hold as smoke inhalation took its toll, but he had strength yet to burn. Panashri's spell went off. More goblins died under her hail of ice daggers and more of Ira's flame spears, leaving only three of them and their leader whole enough to continue the fight.

The third captain turned to run, took one of Kanoha's arrows in the back of his neck, and dropped. One of the surviving goblins whimpered, turned to run as well, and got Mikhev's axe in the spine, its compatriot parrying Dietricht's sword but getting Yedani's knife in the back. The last one got a ball of Panashri's green fire in the face and Tamiya's sword through its belly.

The Dark Knight didn't hesitate for a moment, lopping off a finger for another of her Vices, and Kanoha shoved his spear into the third captain's back a couple of times.

A couple of goblin belts tied around the third captain's shoulders and armpits served as tow grips, and Dietricht and Kanoha dragged the corpse as Mikhev and Tamiya took the lead, heading for what had probably been a servant's entrance at one time while Yedani cut goblin pouch strings and handed them to Panashri and Soong.

"You hurt anywhere?" Miguel asked Ira through the sleeve he was covering his mouth with.

"I'm not." Ira shook his head. "Let's help the girls and get out of here."

Gruesome Maul had prepared a little safehold of sorts in the event that he ever needed to retreat – a little two-story structure that might once have been a small, sturdy home about five blocks away from his villa. Even at a distance the blaze as the structure went up in flames was something to see, a billowing red and orange conflagration that lit up the night sky, flames leaping and dancing like demons in the midst of the snow falling gently from the heavens.

They'd rigged a sort of litter with a shoulder harness for the bodies of the two dead goblin captains, whom Tamiya and Dietricht had identified as Hookfist and Muleface. Well, it was for the parts of the bodies that would be needed for verification to claim the bounties anyway.

Ira was watching Gomer out of the corner of his eye, watching for even a hint of the return of the creature he'd glimpsed for just that one unsettling moment. Gomer was still, squatting, waiting for orders, unmoving despite the snow gradually accumulating on his bare gray skin. A small, curious part of Ira wondered, if he waited long enough, whether the charm would actually break, and just how long would that take? Would it happen if he fell asleep? Was it a slow process, the mental crystal that suppressed the subject's independence and free will gradually breaking down?

It was a very small part, and Ira had no intention of paying it any real heed. Gruesome Maul would never rise again, and that in itself was equally as important as claiming the bounty of ten golds for proof of his death.

"It's done?" Ira asked quietly as Dietricht emerged onto the roof.

"Yes. It'll still be a pretty heavy load, but nowhere the weight it was. The . . . upper portions will be enough proof, especially with the weapons included." Dietricht cleared his throat. "Are you-"

"No second thoughts," Ira said evenly. "He's the most dangerous of all. I'll sleep far better knowing he's dead, and it's a little scary having him alive and this close to me now. I usually do this alone, but I'll feel much safer this time if I'm not. Would you please see if Mikhev and Kanoha would join us?"

A little to Ira's surprise, Tamiya joined them as well.

"I apologize for being overly cautious," he said quietly. "But please have your weapons out and ready, just in case."

That got him a few looks, but they complied. Ira turned to Gomer.

"Lie down, now," he said almost gently. "Close your eyes."

Gomer didn't hesitate, stretching out on the cold, snow-crusted stone with only a single shiver, long arms at his sides. His black eyes sank shut. For a brief, frightening moment, Ira thought for certain they were about to open, that Gruesome Maul would get up once more. But Gomer simply lay where he was, waiting.

Those black eyes half-opened, gray face grimacing as half a dozen spears of flame buried themselves close together in the center of the muscular chest, and then the gray head rolled to the side, briefly bunched muscles relaxing. The crystal in Ira's mind vanished.

"Someone please make very sure that he's dead," Ira said quietly.

Dietricht looked at him, but didn't say anything, just crossed to Gruesome Maul's body, looking down at it. He turned his blade downward, pommel grasped in both hands, and brought it down through the heart of the strongest, the smartest, the most dangerous of the four goblin captains in old Damuro.

"He's dead," Dietricht said calmly, pulling out his sword and kneeling to wipe it off.

Ira let out a sigh of relief and sat on a piece of broken wall without even dusting it off, suddenly very aware of how tired he was. It had been quite a long day. He closed his eyes for just a moment, opening them in time to see gazes dart quickly away.

"Dietricht – you want to tell me what part we're going to need from this one?" Mikhev asked after a moment.

"From the shoulders up should be enough. The star-shaped scar tissue at the base of his neck in back is the biggest identifying marker aside from his face." Dietricht paused. "Actually, we should probably take the right arm too."

As much as Ira would have liked to have made the trek back to Ortana without waiting for the morning to come, he had to face the reality that he wasn't the only one who was tired. It had been an incredibly intense day for all of them. If Gruesome Maul had still been alive and at large, Ira would have insisted they head out immediately. As it was, they simply set a two-hour watch in shifts of two until morning.

"I want you all to know that I took no pleasure in Felicia's death," he said as they were eating the jerky and dried fruit that had been intended as a stockpile for several days' survival and would probably just about make an adequate dinner and light breakfast for the nine of them. "I don't consider any of the rest of you expendable, and if there had been any other way to keep Soong safe, I would have done it. I do consider Felicia's death unfortunate, but far less unfortunate than any of yours would have been."

"I am grateful for choice you made," Kanoha said simply.

"I am too," Song said after a moment.

"It is regrettable that she lost her life," Panashri added. "I only consider it a noble sacrifice made."

"Yes," Yedani said simply.

Mikhev shrugged from where he leaned against the far wall. "I like to think I'd have been able to make the right choice so quickly."

Dietricht, Miguel, Tamiya – not a one of them said a word. Perhaps they didn't think they had a right to. Perhaps they were withholding judgment. Perhaps they were silently disagreeing. Ira supposed it didn't matter in any case for the time being. It was the best he could do and he wasn't going to belabor the subject or ask for some kind of meaningless absolution.

They crept through old Damuro an hour before dawn in the early morning, the city silent and still, only coming across a few sleeping goblins in their way. They saw no sign of any patrols at the ruins of the city wall, and slipped into the forest.

They made Ortana a couple of hours after sunrise, and Bri's eyes glittered as he examined the remains of the three goblin captains.

"All four would have been a little much to believe for a single day," he said dryly. "Three I can still hardly believe, but there's more than enough proof here." He sashayed into the back and came out a few minutes later with a large pouch. "Twenty golds – ten for Gruesome Club, the weapon in question included, and five each for Hookfist and Muleface."

Ira smiled. "It's a pleasure doing business, Bri."

"Yes," Bri's smile widened, eyebrows rising briefly. "And business certainly seems good for you these days. Dare I assume you'll be back later today for your full Volunteer Soldier tags?"

Ira nodded. "Count on it."

"So I know we didn't have a chance to really get cleaned up last night," Dietricht said as they walked back out into the street. "Our quarters actually has a hot spring and it's piped into the bath if you would care to . . ."

Ira blinked, plans to bring Dietricht's group to their own quarters wholly overturned in that brief moment. "I – did you just say hot springs and bath?"

Dietricht nodded. "I – yeah actually. I mean, there's only the one so guys and girls have to take turns but . . ." He trailed off again. He was _blushing_ , Ira realized after a moment. It was very faint but it was there.

"So Ira – I know we were talking about having them join us in our quarters, but it seems to me-" Mikhev began.

"You're very funny, dear, even pretending that we're going to have this conversation." Panashri cut him off with a wry smile.

"We don't have hot baths," Soong said plainly.

"Do you have eight beds?" Ira asked.

Dietricht blinked, and then grinned. "We uh – we do."

Ira smiled back. "Show us where it is, and then we'll go back to ours and pack."

It took all of an hour and to collect and pack all of their possessions, including the foodstuffs in the kitchen. Tamiya had come with them to make sure they didn't get lost. The quarters that Dietricht's original party had been assigned still didn't have any glazed windows or shutters, had the same basic bunk beds filled with straw, and their hearth was outside instead of in the kitchen with the oven, but they also had a fireplace in the kitchen against one wall.

Their courtyard was more off to one side rather than directly in front, but Ira didn't mind that in the slightest. The bath was on the opposite side of the house and open to the sky, but the warmth from the bubbling water made the air quite bearable.

Ira still intended to get them moved into an overall more comfortable living space, but for the time being the new quarters were a significant improvement.

"I . . . is it strange to say I kind of fantasized about this?" Dietricht asked quietly as Ira was arranging the last of his things in the mens' bunk room. Ira looked at him with a warm, tender look. Part of him was thinking that the impact of Felicia's passing clearly hadn't been as devastating to Dietricht's opinion of him as he'd feared. Part of him was thinking that sleeping arrangements were going to have to change. "I mean, having you this close – you know, although the other thing . . ."

"Yes," Ira said simply. It still came as a little bit of a surprise to him, an attraction that was mutual rather than one-sided. "I know what you mean."

Dietricht stepped a little closer, hesitated, looking down at Ira, and then cleared his throat. "I'm probably making this incredibly weird, but I feel like I should ask first – is it . . . is it okay if I hold you? I mean, not in a creepy way."

Ira blinked, set his blanket aside, and then stepped forward and leaned into Dietricht, feeling the muscle of his torso beneath the shirt and fur-lined vest that he was wearing, resting his head against Dietricht's chest and listening to the beat of his heart. Beneath his armor he was fully as muscular as Mikhev, but much taller.

His long arms closed around Ira, gently embracing him.

Ira didn't feel any urge to move, to speak, to change anything. He felt warm, comfortable, and utterly safe in Dietricht's embrace.

He wasn't sure just how much time had passed when he heard the sound of boots on the wooden floor.

"Ira, the girls are going to use the bath, so we were thinking-" Mikhev's voice cut off.

"Awkward timing." Miguel muttered a moment later.

Ira freed an arm long enough to make a shooing gesture, and then went right back to very much enjoying being held.

"So," he said a while later. "There are only four beds in here, and five guys."

"Yes." Dietricht paused. "I . . . was thinking I could sleep in the kitchen until-"

"How about not." Ira opened his eyes and tilted his head back, looking up into Dietricht's eyes. "Mikhev has been climbing into my bed for warmth anyway. It's time for him to start sleeping by himself."

"I usually sleep on my back. I don't know if that's a problem." Dietricht shrugged slightly, but he was smiling back at Ira.

"You're obviously much taller than he is, but I don't think so." Ira shook his head and glanced over at the bunk beds. "We could try it now," he suggested with a warm grin.

Dietrich ginned, and suddenly he was bending, one arm sliding underneath Ira's knees, scooping him up in his arms.

On the one hand, Ira was quite impressed with how effortlessly Dietricht had executed the maneuver. On the other, he hadn't at all expected to be manhandled in such a fashion. It was really very nice, although being held this way, reminded of Dietrich's physical strength and how easily the Knight could physically overpower him . . . it was strangely seductive even as it was a little unsettling to discover that he _wanted_ Dietricht to be able to do that.

He _wanted_ Dietricht to be in control.

Granted, he'd never asked to be leader, or asked to be the one to make decisions for the party. He'd never asked to be the one in charge. It had just happened. No one else had taken the responsibility. But he'd gotten used to being in charge, to making decisions about what best benefited all of them to make the most of what they earned.

His thoughts were interrupted by Dietricht stepping up and setting him on his blanket. He didn't hesitate, but levered himself up on top of Ira, bracing his weight on his elbows, looking down at him, the full length of their bodies pressed together. Ira could feel a distinct bulge along almost the length of Dietricht's thigh.

He was blushing, but not quite sure of how to express that this wasn't quite what he'd had in mind, because it was, but eventually rather than right now. He'd been thinking of just sharing the bed, sort of like with Mikhev, just with someone he was attracted to.

Dietricht's head dipped. His lips pressed against Ira's, waking a heat in Ira's body, strange and yet delightful, a warmth that coiled in his belly, slipped through his veins, the weight of Dietricht's body atop his own bringing him close to something unfamiliar yet tantalizing. Dietricht broke the kiss and looked down at him, then kissed him again, mouth moving against Ira's. He shifted his weight to his right arm, cradling the side of Ira's face with his left, then brushing back his hair.

His mouth moved to Ira's bared neck, hot and wet and making Ira's already fluttering heart pound as that hand slid down, along his side, grasping his hip. Ira's right hand made its own way to the back of Dietrich's neck, the other to his hard chest above his heart, feeling it beating just as hard as his own.

"Guys." Mikhev's voice broke in. "Sorry to interrupt, but the girls are out of the bath. Can we get cleaned up so we can go pick up our new tags?"

"We-" Ira's words devolved into an inarticulate gasp as Dietricht's tongue licked across his skin, teeth grazing it lightly a heartbeat later. Dietricht lifted his head, looking down at Ira. He arched an eyebrow, a gleam in his eye, a faint smile on his lips.

Ira caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of his eye, and then Dietricht rocked into him slightly as Mikhev's open hand connected with his rump.

"Fine," Mikhev said jovially. "But I want a turn then. Get up so I can get some."

Dietricht glowered at him. "Like hell."

"Then let's get cleaned up." Mikhev folded his arms, a smug grin on his face.

Dietricht glared at him a moment more, then turned, gave Ira a brief, hard kiss, and got off of him, getting down to the floor and reaching up to put his hands on Ira's hips. "Hands on my shoulders," he said gently.

Ira complied, slipping off the edge of the bunk bed, Dietricht easily taking his weight. He caught a glimpse of Mikhev's face, but instead of the mildly smarmy expression he'd expected, Mikhev was watching Dietricht intently, brow slightly furrowed.

Dietricht smiled at Ira, kissed him, and let go. "Alright, let's get cleaned up."

The lather and scrub part was still not terribly pleasant, but at least the air near the bath was only chilly and not horribly frigid, and the water to sluice away the suds was blissfully hot. Ira rose to get into the bath. Miguel was already in, steaming water up to his neck.

"He's got a great ass, doesn't he?" Mikhev's tone was contemplative.

Ira almost tripped, startled.

"I know why _I'm_ staring at it and semi-hard, but are you supposed to be?" Dietricht's tone was _not_ amused.

Ira turned his head slowly.

Mikhev was standing, utterly nude, with his weight resting on his left leg, a hand on his hip, and his penis indeed looked to be fairly engorged, though not completely erect, the thick head peeking out of its foreskin about halfway down his thigh.

Dietricht wasn't far from him, and his circumcised cock looked to be about as big as it had felt, nearly the length of his thigh and as thick as Ira's wrist. It had startled to decrease in size until Dietricht's gaze met his.

It leapt, engorging once more, starting to rise.

Ira was frozen, mesmerized by the sight.

Dietricht started towards him. Ira's mouth was dry, heart pounding all over again.

Suddenly Mikhev was there, and Ira only had a moment to gasp before he was flung over the Warrior's broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes, an arm like a band of iron around his ribs as Mikhev jogged to the bath and stepped in.

"Mikhev, you and I are going to fight," Dietricht growled.

Mikhev set Ira down, sat, and pulled Ira into his lap. "I've got your prize this time. You're just going to have to be faster from now on. Might help if you actually washed instead of eye-fucking him." He grinned. "He really does have a great ass."

Dietricht glared bloody murder at him.

Ira shifted, putting his hands on Mikhev's bare chest, intending to get up, but Mikhev's arm tightened. Ira felt Mikhev's big penis twitch underneath him.

"Easy there, or we're going to have a mess to clean up," Mikhev said a little breathlessly. Then he gave Ira a devilish grin. "You really do have a great ass. I might have to go as far as amazing."

It was becoming increasingly clear that Mikhev's attitude toward him hadn't changed in the direction Ira had more or less expected. If anything it seemed to have tilted further the other way.

"Yeah, just think of him, opening up to you, pushing yourself in through that tight hole, feeling his insides envelop you, silky and soft, fitting like a glove as he embraces your cock until you're all the way inside him, and then you pull out and do it all over again," Mikhev continued. His penis stirred once more against Ira's bottom. "You go at it until he's panting and moaning and your breathing's run ragged until he finally climaxes, and you blow your load deep inside of him. It's a hell of a drug, right? Just the idea gets you up and going."

"I mean it," Dietricht said, taking a step closer. His face was furious but his massive erection was bobbing against his belly, the fat, bulbous head of it higher than his belly button. "Let him go right _now_."

"I'm just thinking what you're thinking," Mikhev said, reaching down with his free hand and kneading Ira's buttocks, a finger slipping between them and making Ira jump, breath catching in his throat. "Let's fuck him. If that's all you're after then we can take turns. Me first of course. That's what's in your head, right? You just want a piece of this very nice virgin ass. Look at Ira – he can't tell me no any more than he could you – let's put him to good use."

Dietricht's expression was still furious, but there was suddenly something else there as well. His erection was drooping, arousal clearly dwindling. He looked as though he'd suddenly realized something.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked a little less loudly, running a hand over his hair.

"The same thing you realized is wrong with you," Mikhev said, grin turning wry. "We're animals, but we can't _be_ animals with the people we care about." He finally released Ira, and Ira hurriedly got up, moving to stand beside Dietricht.

Mikhev got up and got out of the water, his own erection slapping against his hard belly, walked over to the washing section of the bath area, leaned over one of the drains, and stroked himself to completion, balls drawing up, penis pulsating as semen erupted from the head in long streams.

He came back, settled himself back into the water, and gave them all a satisfied smile. "Feels damn good," he said unabashedly.

"That was a pretty convincing performance," Kanoha said calmly.

"Yeah." Mikhev shrugged. "Honestly, if Dietricht had gone for it though, so would I. I was counting on you to stop us if it got that far."

Kanoha shook his head. "You overestimate me. If Dietricht hadn't stopped himself, all three of us would have fucked Ira."

"I . . . don't want to fuck Ira," Miguel said quietly.

Dietricht shook his head and sat, holding out a hand to Ira. "Sit down. My intentions are pretty pure at the moment."

It wasn't exactly an ironclad guarantee, but Ira took that to mean that Dietricht at least was planning to put off taking advantage of him, not that he'd minded all that much before. In light of what he'd just heard, however, for right now that was probably for the best. He sat next to Dietricht, and let Dietricht wrap an arm around him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Dietricht said quietly. "I won't let them either."

"Glad we've finally got that sorted out," Mikhev said breezily.

"I meant to ask you earlier," Bri said later as they were waiting in his office for their names to be engraved on their Volunteer Soldier tags. "Didn't you have one more with you before?"

"Unfortunately, Felicia lost her life in the act of protecting Soong's," Ira said calmly. "It was a noble sacrifice on her part." It was a little strange to him, how he could be dispassionate with people outside his party like Bri, and those within it could drive him beyond distraction simply because he knew them better and spent practically every day in their company. "We've been extremely fortunate though, in that Dietricht, Tamiya, and Miguel agreed to join us. They've already become valuable members of our party."

"Eight – that's a full party." Bri's right eyebrow rose slightly. "With nine you're gaining the numbers to become a clan."

"Indeed." Ira nodded. "I've considered that. We're still small now, but if our numbers continue to grow, then we'll probably undergo the formal process." The formal process included selecting colors and a coat of arms to start. Of course, that was only the beginning – eventually there came things like designating officers, creating a seal, even drawing up a charter and selecting a senior council. All of that was years away, however, assuming they lived that long.

"So should I be expecting you to bring me the head of that last goblin captain?" Brit asked. "It seems only appropriate to collect the full set."

Ira shrugged. "I'd be surprised if he hasn't already retreated to the newer part of Damuro. He can hardly have any real expectation of safety if he remains in reach of Volunteer Soldier teams."

"I suppose we'll find out." Bri smiled. "You're doing well."

"I'm thinking Felicia's money should go towards new equipment and skills training for Dietricht, Tamiya, and Miguel," Ira said as they were walking back. "Any objections?"

"No, but we were thinking that we could sell her possessions," Yedani said. "It'll look less strange if it's us girls, and she spent a lot of her money on clothes and flashy jewelry."

Ira blinked, because he hadn't considered that, and nodded. "Excellent idea. We'll take the afternoon to do that and get repairs for what we're keeping and outfitting for what we're replacing underway and then tomorrow, skills training."

"Will we be going back for that fourth captain?" Tamiya asked.

Ira shrugged. "Five golds is hard to turn down, but we're not going to chase him into new Damuro blind. If he's still in old Damuro, then we'll let him spend a few sleepless nights. I'd like to whittle down his numbers if that's the case, but we have to keep in mind that there will probably be competition once word gets out. One of the clans may decide the risk is worth the reward."

She nodded, pursing her lips. "This may be a dumb question, but why don't we go now?"

Ira started ticking off fingers. "First, like I said – he may have retreated to new Damuro, where from what we've heard, the patrols are bigger, the goblins are smarter and better equipped, and they're better organized. Second, if he's stayed, there's no way he hasn't heard about his fellow captains expiring, so he's going to be on the defensive, very reasonably expecting he's next, ready for any assault, and right now he and his subordinates will still be relatively fresh. A few days of that will wear on anyone though. If we wait a few days, he and his troops will probably be tired just from extended shifts and the tension of waiting. Third, we're not the only group that goes into old Damuro, and it's likely there'll be a report of whether he's chosen to flee or dig in. Last but most importantly, every time we get better gear and increase our skills, we improve our chances of survival."

Tamiya nodded, comprehension plain in her brown eyes. "Oh," she said simply. "Sounds good."

Even if he hadn't already seen that she was a good fighter, that look alone would have convinced Ira to let her join them. Ira gave her a small smile. "Let's be about it then. We've got the rest of today and tomorrow to prepare and get well-rested."

They didn't have to wait long to hear about what had happened in the wake of their activity in old Damuro. The news was already making the rounds at Shelly's Tavern when they arrived for dinner. The last goblin captain, a creature the bounty board called Crook-Nose, was either stubborn, stupid, or afraid of retreating, or perhaps a combination of those factors, because he'd pulled in the goblins under his command instead of sending patrols and hunkered down in the fortified remains of an old brewery. Anyone that got too close risked a hail of crossbow fire.

Ira had to wonder what was going through that last captain's head. Was he possibly expecting reinforcements? It wasn't at all out of the question that he might have taken over whatever squads Hookfist and Muleface had left outside during the ambush in Gruesome Maul's villa to bolster his forces. If reinforcements were arriving in short order, then it made some sense to wait.

The goblins in new Damuro had acted when the Goblin Slayers under Haruhiro had taken out the goblin leader who'd previously maintained some sort of control over old Damuro. They would quite likely act again in response to the deaths of three of the four captains they'd sent. If they did indeed send additional forces, Ira would prefer to hear about it at Shelly's rather than be there when they arrived.

"So I heard you're the group that took down Gruesome Maul and two of the other goblin captains in old Damuro."

Ira glanced up as a blond with her long hair pulled back in five or six tails with red ribbons pulled up a chair next to him and straddled it, sitting with her arms across the back. She was pretty enough as far as aesthetics, he supposed, though he didn't feel the slightest flicker of attraction. Her eyes were a light green, accentuated by her knee-length green dress, the laces across her bosom left loose in a display that was probably supposed to be enticing, but only looked sloppy to him. Her fur-lined boots were soft beige, feet resting on her toes. She tilted her head slightly to the left and smiled.

"Indeed," Ira said evenly, and looked away, taking a sip from his drink.

"Well you're quite the cool customer." Her tone was thoughtful. Ira didn't like it. It reminded him disturbingly of Mikhev. She got up, turned her chair around, and sat in it properly. Then she held out a hand. "I'm Ynifa."

"Ira." Ira turned, giving her extended hand a light clasp and a single shake before letting go, leaving her looking down at it with a mildly amused expression before she folded both hands in her lap.

"Did you have questions, or an offer, or both pending response?" he asked simply.

Ynifa rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Cut straight to the point, don't you? I'm the head of Janvlngot Clan. We're not one of the biggest, but we're recruiting at the moment. You've obviously got a great team – not to mention Sorcerers are a little on the rare side, and I'd like you to consider joining us. The offer's open to all of you."

Ira shrugged. "Make it a very attractive offer."

Ynifa's eyebrows rose slightly, but evidently she wasn't daunted just yet. "Well for one thing you'll enjoy the support of the clan. There's greater safety in numbers and we can take down stronger and more numerous adversaries."

"With sufficient organization," Ira conceded. "What about lodging accommodations? Repairs and upgrades for equipment?"

"Well, we expect clan-members to be self-sufficient in that regard." Ynifa shrugged.

"I see. Let's revisit the combat arrangement. Will you want to divide us into groups, or will we still remain a unit, just acting in concert with other units? Who'll be making the tactical decisions and giving orders?"

"It's pretty likely that you'll be asked to join different groups depending on the situation. As far as who would give the orders, that would be me, or my second in command, Juma."

Ira nodded. "Last question. Why haven't we heard of you before? Orion, Aizu, Renji-jinshuu – they've made names for themselves, taken kills off of the bounty board – even we can claim that distinction. So can Haruhiro and the Goblin Slayers for that matter."

The last of Ynifa's smile vanished. "You could have just said you're not interested."

Ira shrugged. "It wouldn't have been fair not to give you a chance to change my mind, and I'm sure the rest of my team had many of the same questions before they make their own decisions." He glanced down the table.

"Maybe . . . we can just be friends?" Miguel said awkwardly after a long stretch of silence.

"Yeah," Ynifa said as she got up. She walked away, and Ira watched her return to a small table of four others, likely her senior members unless she'd been making up the part about already having a clan. She didn't strike him as the type to engage in that kind of exaggeration though, otherwise she possibly would have tried to lie about their member support.

"You could have asked her if she and her little group of friends wanted to join us." Mikhev's tone was casual.

"I don't think those are all of her friends," Ira replied. "Just the ones in her inner circle."

"I have a feeling I know the answer, but were you honestly expecting any of us to consider joining her?" Dietricht asked, a wry smile on his features.

Ira smiled warmly back at him. "What I like about all of you is that you're wise enough to make the right choice." He turned that smile on the rest of the table, and got amused looks in return. "So Mikhev – you know what to do, right?"

Mikhev glanced skyward, expression thoughtful. "I'm guessing find her friends and casually mention how good we have it with you?"

"Close, and I like that idea, by the way." Ira gave him a thumbs up. "I want Janvlngot Clan to know that we're going after Crook-Nose the day after tomorrow."

"They'll make excellent decoys," Yedani observed.

Soong nodded. Kanoha and Tamiya looked thoughtful. Panashri shook her head slightly, but said nothing. Miguel blinked, looking mildly taken aback, but nodded slowly as well.

Dietricht's smile was mildly incredulous. "We're really going to do this," he said after a moment.

"May the best team win." Ira held up his cup, and mugs and cups clicked together up and down the table.

What he was doing was patently unfair. Ira was aware of it as he walked back to their quarters with the others. Ynifa and her clan would, if they were smart, just sit back and let the matter go. Ira was reasonably sure they wouldn't though. He'd pricked her pride, and if he was honest with himself, done it pretty much on purpose with the idea of instigating exactly this sort of outcome.

He didn't have anything against Ynifa and her associates personally, but the facts were exactly as they'd been laid out.

If Janvlngot Clan was stronger or better organized, they'd have at least some kind of accomplishment to their name. As far as he could tell they were little better than some sort of mob, perhaps with a membership fee included.

Ira was perfectly willing to let them shoulder whatever burden he could press on them that would benefit his team, and he didn't feel bad about it in the slightest. Besides, there was the possibility that they'd manage to claim Crook-Nose's bounty for their own, however unlikely that might be.

He was actually walking into the bath when he recalled what had happened only that morning and he stopped, only to have Mikhev grin as he put an arm around his waist and more or less dragged him forward through the door. Mikhev winked and swatted Ira lightly on the left butt cheek, squeezing briefly before Dietricht shoved him off with a scowl.

Mikhev just grinned broadly and started stripping off his clothes.

"I'll wash your back," Dietricht said quietly, putting an arm briefly around Ira.

"Thanks," Ira said quietly, blushing furiously. He removed his own clothes, mindful of Dietricht doing the same next to him, his tall, chiseled, muscular body dusted lightly with dark red hair, thick at his crotch, cropped short, contrasting with the pale skin of his large scrotum, testicles as big as large chicken eggs, and his long, thick, slowly engorging cock.

Ira was nervous, but he couldn't help but lean into Dietricht's soapy, strong, callused hands, hardened and roughened by gripping sword and shield, but still gentle as they glided over his shoulders, firm but tender. They slid down his back, up and over his ribs and back down his sides. Lips pressed butterfly light against the side of Ira's neck as thumbs pressed at the top of his valley before the pressure vanished.

Ira turned, meeting Dietricht's blue eyes, handsome face hardly an inch away, the dark red-haired Knight squatting close enough to almost touch, big penis halfway to the intimidating erection he'd been sporting before. Ira took the bar of soap from Dietricht's hand, but Dietricht didn't turn, just faced him, blue eyes smoldering.

Ira lathered the soap in his hands, and started with Dietricht's broad, muscular shoulders, feeling them flex subtly beneath his touch, moving to his thick, powerful biceps, over his elbows, his big, solid forearms, and back up, along his triceps, running his fingers through the thick, short hair in Dietricht's armpits, across his broad, powerful chest, feeling the thick pectoral muscles contract and relax as Dietricht flexed those too. He rubbed soap across the tight abdominal muscles, thrilling as they shifted beneath his touch. He got as far as the lean, powerful hips before Dietricht twined his fingers with Ira's, giving him an intimate smile, and turned, placing them once more on his broad shoulders. Ira explored Dietricht's wide back with his soapy hands, more powerful muscle rippling beneath his touch, resisting the urge to kiss it, press his body against Dietricht's. He made it to the hips once more, and Dietricht stood.

Ira started with his feet, hands sliding over and around, then the ankles, up the powerful calves, the knees, the long, muscular thighs. He rubbed soap over the muscular buttocks, feeling Dietricht flex those beneath his touch too, making them rock hard. Ira rubbed soap over the sides of Dietricht's hips, hesitated a moment, and then ran his soapy fingers through Dietricht's valley, over his sphincter, and Dietricht cleared his throat and turned quickly at that. Evidently the sensation wasn't the same nearly debilitating pleasure for him that it had been for Ira.

Dietricht was once again fully erect, massive cock rising up against his belly, large scrotum with two big testicles hanging below. He was looking down at Ira with a slight grin and a smoldering gaze. Ira started once more with his feet, up his shins, over his knees, rubbing soap in circular patterns up the thighs.

Dietricht's eyebrows rose slightly, a hint of impatience mingling with clear anticipation in his eyes. Ira ran his soapy hands up Dietricht's hips, and then ran his fingers over the short, thick hair at his crotch just above his phallus. He was, Ira realized, very much enjoying the look of anticipation and desire on Dietricht's face.

He brought his hands back down to Dietricht's thighs, grazing his testicles as he slid them inside, turning his right hand to stroke along the taint. Then, very gently, he closed his fingers around Dietricht's balls and covered them with soap as well, looking up in time to see Dietricht's lips part and his chest heave.

Ira saved the pinnacle for last, wrapping his fingers around Dietricht's erection, the girth such that he couldn't close his hands completely around it, feeling it rigid and hard and yet silky and smooth to the touch. He could hear Dietricht's heavy breathing as he worked his way slowly up from the base, pulling it down so that it was horizontal. Precum was beading at the tip, clear and glistening. On impulse, Ira licked it off.

Dietricht shuddered, breath leaving him in a low exhalation. Someone else made a choking noise.

"Ira," Mikhev said, voice raspy. "If you blow him in front of us, you're blowing me too."

Ira subsided, gently soaping up the rest of Dietricht's penis, Dietricht shuddering again as Ira's fingers glided lightly over the thick crown.

Dietricht set his bathing stool behind Ira's and pulled Ira back to lean against his chest, those big, callused yet gentle hands roaming once more over Ira's body, carefully massaging his shoulders, light and tender on his neck, applying a bit more pressure as they rubbed soap over his chest and belly. Those hands rubbed soap over his sides, over his arms, fingers twining briefly with his own as they reached his hands. They slid back down, closing briefly around Ira's wrists, thumbs brushing over his pulse points, sliding down into his armpits.

One of Dietricht's arms wrapped around Ira's waist and he was suddenly balanced on Dietricht's right thigh, left hand sliding under Ira's left leg and lifting, gliding along the underside of his thigh, up to his ankle, briefly massaging his foot before sliding back, repeating the process with his right leg. Though he was gentle, there was nothing tentative in the way his big hand closed around Ira's scrotum before engulfing his smaller penis, giving a couple of strokes before his fingers slid under, increasing the pressure as they rubbed along his taint.

Ira's breath was coming fast, not just because of the stimulation, but because of how close Dietricht was to that place Mikhev had touched in a way that promised something Ira only somewhat understood but his body very ardently desired.

Dietricht's finger glided across it, and Ira sank back against him with a gasp. A pair of fingers stroked it, pressure increasing. Ira felt like his body was starting to melt, heat rushing through him. He panted against Dietricht, overwhelmed by the sensations playing out in his body.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when Dietricht left off, just holding him for a long moment. His breathing slowed, heart rate returning to something approaching normal. He opened his eyes in time to see Mikhev ejaculate, jets of semen spattering across one of the drains. Kanoha was leaning against the wall, lean torso heaving, tight belly flexing as he stroked a penis that was actually probably a little thicker than Mikhev's if not quite so long. He came as well, muscles tightening, expression tense, mouth opening as his seed erupted.

"Son of a bitch," Dietricht muttered. He set Ira gently back on his own stool, got up, and started toward Mikhev.

Mikhev grinned, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand, opening it to say something. The words were lost in a flattened-sounding _whunf_ as Dietricht flung him over one shoulder and headed towards the bath.

"That's the _second_ time you've gotten off on Ira, and I haven't gotten off at all," he growled, words punctuated by the loud, ringing _crack_ of his hard, open hand impacting Mikhev's bare ass. He tossed Mikhev into the bath, and Ira got a brief glance at the vivid, bright red handprint across Mikhev's buttocks.

Mikhev hit with a splash and staggered to his feet, looking bewildered.

Ira stopped watching him, watching Dietricht instead as he filled a couple of large bowls with water and came back, half-hard, big penis swinging between his legs, expression becoming less grumpy as he handed Ira one of them.

Mikhev was wearing a small, slightly incredulous grin as they got into the bath. "You uh – you hit kind of hard. Still stings."

Dietricht shrugged. "Next time you really won't be able to sit down."

Mikhev looked like he was about to start laughing, except Dietricht's expression remained slightly belligerent, and he cleared his throat instead, shifting with a slight wince.

"You said you like to sleep on your back," Ira said to Dietricht as they were getting ready for bed. "Did you want to get in first?"

Dietricht grinned, reaching up and running his hand over his hair. "It's um – it's kind of sexier for me if I get to be the one to put you in my bed. Kind of a macho guy thing, but . . ." He trailed off with a shrug. "Just make room for me."

Ira was still nodding when Dietricht picked him up and stepped up onto the bed, setting Ira on the blanket. Ira scooted over, holding up the end of the blanket for Dietricht to get in, and Dietricht stripped naked and climbed up, laying back and shimmying over until his side was pressed against Ira.

Ira draped the blanket so that the top half covered both of them, and then suddenly Dietricht's arm was around his back, shifting him sideways to where he was lying almost on top of Dietricht, head resting on Dietricht's chest, an arm over his belly, thigh against Dietricht's crotch.

"That's better," Dietricht murmured. "Just . . . can you lose the underwear and the shirt? It chafes a little." His thumb hooked under the waistband of the underwear in question and tugged.

Ira wasn't sure why he blushed a little at that. Dietricht had been touching him more intimately in the baths just a little bit ago. He wriggled out of both, and Dietricht set them aside. Ira could feel the hairs of Dietricht's chest against his face, but it wasn't unpleasant, though he wasn't sure how well he'd be able to sleep with Dietricht's half-hard penis against his bare skin.

A big hand settled on his buttocks, squeezing briefly.

"There we go," Dietricht said quietly, tone satisfied.

Ira did eventually manage to sleep.

He heard the others get up in the morning, but didn't move from where he was. He could feel Dietricht's semi-erect penis against his thigh, the way Dietricht's thumb slid slowly up and down his lower spine.

"You awake, Ira?" Dietricht asked quietly. "The others are downstairs." He started using his whole hand on Ira's back, rubbing in slow circles. His other hand began massaging Ira's buttocks.

Ira lifted his head, knowing Dietricht could feel his own growing erection against his belly. He smiled, and Dietricht lifted his head up, kissing him. He lay back, wetting his middle finger with his mouth, and then pulled Ira further up with his other arm so that their faces were level. He kissed him again, and the other hand glided down into Ira's valley, that slick finger rubbing over his sphincter.

Ira gasped against Dietricht's mouth and Dietricht's tongue slid inside. Ira was melting all over again, body hot, feeling Dietricht's hot skin against him. Dietricht was completely in control, and Ira welcomed that fact, giving himself over without hesitation.

He groaned as Dietricht's finger entered him, massaging the ring of his entrance before withdrawing once more. Dietricht broke the kiss long enough to wet his finger again, and went right back to work, finger pressing in further, grinding slowly against Ira, erection sliding against the inside of Ira's thigh and the bottom of his right buttock.

It wasn't long before Dietricht's finger found something within Ira that made Ira arch, head flung back as he gasped out a noise of inarticulate, hardly expressable pleasure. Ira could only ride out the waves of ecstasy that rolled through him with unstoppable force as Dietricht massaged that place, taking back Ira's mouth with his own once more.

Ira felt those waves crash higher and higher as they broke through him, until finally he was swept utterly away, coming back to himself to the sensation of Dietricht's penis sliding between his legs, along his valley, increasing the tempo. Dietricht's chest was heaving beneath him, his kisses fierce on Ira's mouth, broken intermittently as Dietricht dragged in air.

One hand came up, gripping the back of his neck, holding his head in place as Dietricht's tongue swept in once more, the other lining up the head of his penis with Ira's entrance. For a moment Ira thought that big, pulsating head was about to enter him, but semen jetted into him, erupting from the end of Dietricht's penis in long bursts and flooding into his body.

He released Ira at last and lay back, grinning, chest heaving. "Mikhev's gotten off twice now. I figure we're due at least once uninterrupted."

Ira nodded after a moment, his own breath still coming fast. "Yes, that was . . . I've never felt anything like it. It was . . . it was a little scary, but amazing."

Dietricht blinked, looking startled. "I didn't think you . . . I didn't realize this was your first time." He grimaced. "I should have put more thought into this."

Ira shook his head. "It's okay, it really was amazing." He smiled at Dietricht. "You're right – we really did deserve a turn to get off, and considering the circumstances, I wouldn't change a thing."

Dietricht gave Ira a warm, tender smile and kissed him again. "We'll have to do this again, just when we've got more time. I'll put a little more preparation into it too." He gave Ira's buttocks a brief squeeze. "We'd better get going or we'll be at it again here in a couple of minutes."


	4. Chapter 4: Mercenary & Brutal Intent

**Author's Notes:** **Smut. Also local economics. Why? Because Power.**

* * *

Chapter 4

You Mercenary Thing

Brutal Intent

The skills Ira ended up paying to learn cost him seventy-five silver in total, but he was reasonably certain that they would more than prove their worth.

"So we're all clear on the general strategy?" Ira asked after they'd all returned to their quarters following dinner. "Any questions?"

"What do we do if Crook-Nose doesn't take the bait?" Panashri asked.

"You mean if he stays hunkered down inside to try and wait it out?" Ira shrugged. "We'll have to improvise, but once we've scouted the place out and also determined if and where Ynifa's deployed her people, that should give us more possible options. If nothing else, I'm perfectly willing to try and set the place on fire if it comes to that, and then kill whatever manages to escape, but that introduces a number of random factors that could decrease the probability that we'll be able to take the bounty."

Panashri nodded.

"It probably goes without saying, but it's unlikely that if Ynifa's team is there, they'll be planning to play fair any more than we will. Just because they're human doesn't mean that they're not aggressive. Don't kill them if you don't have to, but don't expect them to do anything but try and come out on top, whatever it takes." Ira glanced around, getting nods from everyone. "Then get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

"So, I was thinking I could be the one sharing your bunk tonight, Ira," Mikhev said as they were getting ready for bed, giving him a sidelong grin. "That way we can both be sure we'll sleep well."

"Yeah, that's not happening ever again," Dietricht cut in, frowning. "Believe me when I say your ass is on the line. I will literally shove my fist up there."

Mikhev blinked. Even Ira was caught a little off-guard by that.

"I wouldn't blame him if he did," Miguel piped up unexpectedly.

Mikhev shrugged after a moment. "You've made yourself heard loud and clear." He turned and grinned at Miguel. "How about it? Wanna be the little spoon?"

Miguel grimaced and shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a fucking pervert."

Kanoha actually snorted at that, lips curving in a smile.

It was the first time Ira had seen something even approaching an approximation of an actual laugh out of him. He'd known Kanoha had a sense of humor, though it seemed a bit on the dry side, but the reaction was new.

Mikhev socked him lightly on the shoulder. "I'm not the only pervert."

Kanoha shrugged. "I'm a man," he said simply, small smile unchanging.

Ira's breath left him as Dietricht scooped him up without warning and gave him a quick kiss. "Time to get some sleep."

They were all up early the next morning, had a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs with chopped vegetables, bacon, and brown rice, and were on their way.

Dietricht's armor was now on par with Mikhev's, with a full breastplate and backplate from neck to hips and down to the wrists with lobstered plate at the joints, particularly the shoulders, over a full mail shirt. Lobstered mitts protected his hands, and his big square shield had been reinforced. He still had his mail skirt, but now he wore it over fully armored greaves, boots, and a codpiece. His sword was brand-new, with a broad blade, long hilt, and wide crossguard, scabbard reinforced with a steel frame.

Tamiya now also had a full breastplate and backplate, and though her shoulders were similarly armored with lobstered plate, she'd opted for padded scalemail to protect her arms, sacrificing a little protection for increased mobility, a skirt of scalemail protecting her hips, thighs, and knees, boots armored with plate.

Both of them now had helmets as well, Dietricht's a full helmet similar to Mikhev's only with a slit visor and no painted horns, Tamiya's cylindrical with an open face and nose guard, a veil of ringmail in front. She had a new sword as well, rather similar to Mikhev's offhand weapon, almost triangular with one sharp edge and a point, and a poniard with a narrow blade and wide crossguard.

Miguel now had a knee-length coat of padded leather with a ridged collar that came up to his ears and a black fur-lined hat like Ira's. He'd replaced his shillelagh with a club that had been carved midway up the thick haft into a large coiled serpent, its broad head braced with threads of inlaid steel.

Ira was nearly as pleased as they were, if not more so. They'd been fairly efficient in combat before. He expected a noticeable increase today with the improved equipment and increased skills. The gratitude they'd repeatedly expressed over the course of the last two days hadn't been unpleasant either.

"Thank you, again," Dietricht said as he walked next to Ira, boots crunching on the snow, as though following Ira's thoughts. His voice lowered slightly. "I know I've said it before, but I mean it. It's . . . kind of awkward for me, because I'd wanted to approach you after we were actually – you know – _successful_ , but thanks."

Ira smiled back at him. "Believe me, you're already extremely impressive. We may not have met under the ideal circumstances we'd have liked, but I'm just glad we met."

Dietricht grinned at that, arm sliding around Ira's waist, leaning in, and Ira pulled down his scarf long enough to let Dietricht plant a kiss on his lips.

They came across a single pair of goblins in their path, still rolled in their blankets, and both died before they'd truly awakened. When they came to the wall of old Damuro, the only tracks were those of a small animal, perhaps a squirrel or a vole.

The handful of goblin groups they encountered were disorganized and unprepared. They were also slightly less well-paid. On the one hand they were easier prey, but on the other, Ira was wondering if perhaps the goblins in new Damuro were simply going to let old Damuro revert to the way it had been, full of small itinerant bands. Killing the fourth captain might be the last full bucket they could draw from this particular metaphorical well.

It might be time to consider a new hunting range. He'd have to consider the local alternatives again when he had the time and luxury to do so.

It didn't take them long to find the brewery or a suitable staging location nearby, especially with Gomer's ubiquitous assistance. They secured a small one-story catty-corner from the brewery, sneaking in from the back, and Ira sent Kanoha and Yedani out to scout for Janvlngot Clan as well as see if they could find any lightly guarded access points into the brewery itself and determine where the lookouts were posted. He didn't object to them showing themselves necessarily as long as they were safe and didn't give away their main position.

Two full hours ticked by before Yedani returned, two and a half for Kanoha to make his way back. As it turned out, Janvlngot Clan had only arrived in the last forty-five minutes, taking up two positions to the north and northwest of the brewery, totaling probably over a dozen members split between the two. Both Kanoha and Yedani had taken long routes back to avoid being followed – in Yedani's case using her Sneak skill to pass right through a group of goblins to make sure a pursuer would have a hard time of it.

The Janvlngot had picked good positions if one assumed that there was a possibility of Crook-Nose making a break for new Damuro since it was nominally in that direction. They'd be able to launch an ambush while he was mobile.

Of course, for that to happen they'd have to roust Crook-Nose out of his stronghold in the first place.

Ira's initial concern that they might be staking out an empty stronghold had been alleviated early on thanks to Gomer, who'd been able to confirm that Crook-Nose was indeed still barricaded inside after sending out part of his force for resupply during the night.

Ira was also concerned the competition might have a Sorcerer among them as well. They hadn't actually seen another goblin make its way inside during the course of the morning, though. It was possible that Janvlngot didn't have one, or if they did, they weren't employing the Charm enchantment the same way Ira used it.

So far, matters were pretty much as Ira had anticipated. He sent in Gomer. After his last experience, Ira was making a concerted effort to ensure that he t least recognized the current Gomer, and also that he was aware of the crystal in his mind that was Gomer's entrapped will any time the goblin was out of his sight.

This particular Gomer had been briefed on what Ira was hoping for, which was ideally a sortie sent out to disrupt whatever Ynifa had in mind with Crook-Nose trying to slip out the back with a smaller guard detachment to try and escape via the "safe route" that Gomer would be only to happy to divulge – for a price of course, just to give the lie a little more credibility.

There was, of course, the chance that Crook-Nose might have built up a force sufficient to simply overwhelm the two groups of human Volunteer Soldiers that Gomer was going to tell him about, and while it might end unfortunately for Janvlngot, that was a risk Ira was all too willing to take. If Gomer came back alone or didn't come back at all, then Ira would adjust the strategy as necessary.

Gomer came back alone, but what he hastily drew in little pictograms in a dusting of snow made Ira's eyebrows rise. Crook-Nose might not have been the goblin captain that Gruesome Maul considered his rival, but being captain of goblins evidently merited more credit than Ira had given the title.

Crook-Nose was dividing up his forces into three groups, two groups, presumably of ten or more, to engage, while he led the third strike force to flank one position and destroy it, after which those two groups would surround and eliminate the second group.

It was possible that if Ynifa's clan had members with overwhelming strength who could turn the tide, then they might still come out on top, but his estimation of her didn't lend a great deal of credence to that theory.

It might be possible to catch the force Crook-Nose was leading from behind as they were maneuvering into position, but based on the rough approximation of numbers Gomer had been able to give, that force could well be upwards of fifteen goblins or even closer to twenty or more.

The ideal time to strike would be just after Crook-Nose started his own assault from the Clan's flank, but they also risked the annihilation of that group, and could conceivably end up fighting both together. Those kinds of circumstances would be deadly.

"Presumably he's sending his screening teams now," Ira said, glancing at the human members of his own team. "Then he'll lead the main group on the attack. If this goes well, we'll have the element of surprise. Let's get into position."

Kanoha, Yedani, and Gomer headed for positions to cover the brewery from three sides. Ira waited, but he didn't do it very well. The hard part wasn't staying composed outwardly. He just had to keep himself relaxed. Inside though, a voice was clamoring louder and louder that he was running out of time. He had to fight the urge to tell everyone to move out despite not knowing where Crook-Nose was. Anxiety was one thing. Acting on it would get them all killed.

Part of the problem was that he was depleting their already small force for surveillance with no way to call them back early. Signal mirrors, he realized suddenly as Dietricht checked the draw on his sword and a shaft of sunlight gleamed on the briefly bared polished metal. He should have sent them out with signal mirrors. It was too late now, but he was definitely planning to buy some when they got back to Ortana.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried about knowing when Crook-Nose was leaving the brewery. There was a scraping noise from across the street intersection. Tamiya got low to the floor and crawled into the front room. She came back two long minutes later.

"They unblocked one of the windows and they're heading west. If that's not Crook-Nose with them, then one of them is incredibly ugly even for a goblin, and it sure looks like the wanted poster."

"Let's do this then," Ira said quietly. "Go to the opposite corner of the building – try to signal Kanoha and Yedani - no more than a quick wave - and then run back to join us."

Tamiya nodded.

They caught up with Crook-Nose's detachment just around the western corner of the brewery. Some of the goblins were already turning around, likely having heard the sound of crunching snow under running boots. They shouted something as snake-headed spears of flame darted towards them, and a moment later there were jagged ice spines coming right behind. Six goblins dropped, dead or too wounded to fight.

More than twice their number remained. Crossbows were leveled.

"Stay close behind Mikhev and Dietricht," Ira shouted, grabbing Soong's arm and pulling her behind him as he followed his own orders, Panashri crowding in as well.

" _In blazing light shall this sign be written, to unleash its word upon the transgressor. Let its might be loosed upon the one who breaks its bounds."_ Ira felt the words reverberate within him, drawing upon his anxiety, the fear he kept under an iron grip, and his determination to come out the victor. Sheets of light danced in the street before them, shaping a rune that crackled with curls of electricity and vanished, crossbow bolts flying over it a heartbeat later.

They clattered off of Dietricht's shield, and Mikhev swore as his armor rattled, but they stood firm.

"Now, Panashri!" Ira said quickly. "Everyone get ready to close your eyes!"

They both began their next spells.

" _Messenger of heaven, drink deep of this cup. Find form and expression in this pure offering. Sing the primordial song of the beginning, of the power descended from the skies to awaken the earth and the waters. Speak the word that joined heaven and earth and birthed life._ "

The first spell had been a lightning-trap rune that would discharge directly into whoever was unfortunate enough to step on it with more than enough power to kill. It was probable that the goblins wouldn't be dumb enough to step on the rune having seen it placed, but Ira hadn't been banking on that anyway.

The second spell was one that channeled lightning in an evocation. There obviously wasn't any lightning to be had, but he hadn't been banking on that either. The goblins were still in the midst of reloading their crossbows when Mikhev used his War Cry ability to paralyze them, and then Panashri's spell hit and stones ripped themselves up from beneath the snow, whirling as if caught in some unnatural whirlwind.

Ira finished his spell, and the lightning rune collapsed into a shining point with a quiet snap. Half a heartbeat later it shone with incandescent radiance. Ira put his hand in front of his eyes but couldn't completely look away, eyes narrowed almost to slits.

He glimpsed her as she exploded from that shining point, robed in radiance, her wild, writhing hair of luminance crowned with stars. In profile, her eyes shone like wells of more lightning. She turned, facing the goblins, put both hands to her mouth as though to call something out, and Ira closed his eyes, the flash still leaving a brilliant after-image of the insides of his eyelids as her mouth opened and a coruscating stream of lightning blasted forth.

He opened his eyes to a scene of spectacular chaos. The invocation had melted the snow and left a long, jagged black scar on the stone beneath. Smoking goblins lay scattered in the street, some of them twitching, many not moving at all. Half a dozen remained on their feet, looking dazed, though they regained their faculties quickly enough as Mikhev charged, Tamiya right behind him.

Ira was in the middle of conjuring flame spears when an arrow whipped by him, nailing a goblin in the throat, and then Kanoha was beside him, taking aim once more. The rest of the goblins were down in moments.

"Where's Yedani?" Ira asked as he helped collect the valuables.

"Haven't seen her," Tamiya replied, toeing some of the fallen goblins onto their backs. She stopped and looked up, tapping one with her boot. "I found Crook-Nose though."

"Take what we need." Ira glanced at Kanoha.

"Just waiting for the word," Kanoha said before Ira could get a word out. "I'll find her and we'll meet you back at the staging point."

Ira nodded, and Kanoha left at a jog.

Crook-Nose's most identifiable feature was, in fact, the long, very badly broken nose on his face. It was readily apparent that it had never healed right, crooked and misshapen. The head was decidedly lighter than half or even a quarter of him, and fit much more conveniently into a sack.

It only took them a few minutes to collect anything valuable the goblins had had in their possession, but Ira had been hoping nonetheless that Kanoha and Yedani would come trotting around the corner. He couldn't help but feel deep misgiving as he jogged with the others back to their hiding place.

They waited almost forty minutes. At one point they had to lay low as a large number of goblins moved quickly through the street outside. Ira's anxiety increased.

Kanoha came back bleeding, limping, but with Yedani over one shoulder.

"She's pretty badly hurt," he said quietly as Mikhev moved to take her from him. "I think she's lost a lot of blood."

Soong and Miguel didn't waste any time using their healing magic. Yedani remained unconscious, however.

"Was it Janvlngot?" Ira asked quietly.

Kanoha shook his head. "Reinforcements from new Damuro. I think some of Janvlngot might have gotten away - I saw four, but I didn't want to give away my position, and it became three as I watched. The goblins swept in, secured their immediate premises, got a good look around, turned right back around, and headed back the way they'd come. I had to kill two of them to get to her, and then hid until the rest left."

Ira pursed his lips and then shrugged. "We'll see what was left behind. If nothing else we'll need to burn the bodies. Mikhev and Soong - stay here with Yedani."

The goblins had actually left all but a few daggers and a short sword if the empty scabbards were any guide. Staves, swords, knives, axes, armor – they'd left all of it. Even the coin purses remained unspoiled.

Ira supposed he could have wasted time on guilt that his plan had worked better than he'd expected, with the reinforcements from new Damuro falling on Janvlngot while they'd already been pinned down, but he wasn't inclined to do so. Their only real casualty had been Yedani, and thankfully that hadn't ended up being a mortality.

Being eminently practical, Ira instead had his party take all of the coin, prioritize which pieces of equipment they could take with them that had the most resale value, and hide the rest for retrieval later, then had Gomer go in and verify that there were no remaining goblins in Crook-Nose's stronghold before more or less repeating the process there.

The result was a considerable realized windfall that more than made up both for the time lost during the actual engagement and aftermath, and the time to carry the bodies of the fallen Volunteer Soldiers of Janvlngot Clan to a small house and set it ablaze to ensure they wouldn't rise as undead. There was the coin to be yielded after they returned for the rest of what could be liquidated into cash as well, but Ira wasn't going to add that to their budget until he had the coin in hand.

It occurred to Ira that it might be appropriate to report the names of the deceased, but the only body he recognized was Ynifa's. Presumably the survivors would do a better job of that anyway, assuming any of them made it back to Ortana alive.

By the time all was said and done and they returned to the others, Yedani was awake, if extremely weak. She was, Ira couldn't help but notice, wrapped in Miguel's leather coat. Dietricht handed him a fur-lined cloak they'd scavenged.

"What happened?" Ira asked quietly as he settled next to her.

She grimaced. "I . . . part of Ynifa's group – they were running, being chased. I tried to help. I thought if I could get the goblins' attention, get some of them to chase me, I could get away and they could too." She shook her head. "I did get their attention. A pair of them cornered me, actually. I managed to kill one and get away from the other one. At one point I was crawling; it hurt so badly I couldn't walk. I crawled into a snowbank to hide."

Ira let out his breath in a long, slow, controlled blast. "I told you before that you're not expendable. None of you are. We were very lucky this time. We can't afford to lose you. You're one of us." He leaned forward. "No more risks."

Yedani nodded. "I understand. No more risks."

Ira smiled. "Good. It'd take an awful lot of time and effort to burn down all of Damuro to make sure I got the perpetrator. I'd be quite put out."

Yedani blinked and then smiled slightly. "I wouldn't want to put you to the trouble."

"Indeed. Just imagine how furious I'd be," Ira said, lifting his eyebrows slightly.

Yedani's smile widened. "That's a frightening idea."

"Find us a safe route back to Ortana, Kanoha." Ira stood. "We'll come back for the rest of the stash tomorrow."

The gear of thirteen Volunteer Soldiers took up a rather sizeable amount of space as it happened. It took two days for Yedani to be back in reasonably good health, and three for them to finish the retrieval of the spoils. Sale was slow, but Ira had expected that, and they continued to supplement their earnings with goblins unlucky enough to be in or near their path. Meanwhile the bounty and the coin added a nice sum to their cash balance, making the purchase of an accommodation look attractive even if it probably wasn't practical in the long term.

The gnoll establishment northwest of Damuro was also beginning to look increasingly attractive. The gnolls had a tribal society, putting their level of sophistication on a similar level to that of the goblins, albeit with a taste for traditional bows instead of crossbows. They also had a penchant for trade with other non-human races, and where there was trade, there was coin.

The goblins in new Damuro had done largely as Ira suspected they might, more or less abandoning old Damuro, establishing a heavily armed perimeter to prevent access to new Damuro. It wasn't that Ira hadn't considered continuing to prey upon them, but assaulting a heavily armed and fortified position where they'd been entrenched for years was a far different prospect than what had been, in essence, raids on encamped enemy positions where they'd only been in place for a space of weeks.

The gnolls, on the other hand, presented a similar circumstance. There wouldn't be any insurmountable or impregnable walls or structures of stone, particularly since they were semi-nomadic. Granted, they were, as Ira understood it, bigger, stronger, and faster than goblins, akin in appearance to bipedal gray wolves, with teeth and claws they weren't above using in a fight. Ira was reasonably confident that they wouldn't prove all that much more difficult to kill though.

His current priority was finding a more comfortable living space, however. The lack of privacy hadn't bothered him as much before he and Dietricht had become physically intimate. Now however, it was becoming maddening. Mikhev had already walked in on Ira trying to work Dietricht's big, thick penis into his throat once, grinned and promptly unlaced his trousers, and been thrown bodily from the bunk room into the hall by an irate Dietricht.

Both Dietricht and Mikhev had gotten noticeably more handsy. When Panashri was present, Mikhev's attention was thankfully directed towards her. She'd laughed and swatted his hand when it went lower than her waist the first couple of times. The previous day though she'd stepped in and said something in his ear, the words low and sharp.

When it was just Mikhev and Ira, his hand would inevitably make contact with Ira's bottom, often with a finger sliding along Ira's valley. Masturbation in the bath was now a daily event both for Mikhev and Kanoha, and in spite of himself, Ira couldn't help but be turned on by the sight of their muscular bodies flexing, powerful arms pumping as they stroked their erect cocks.

Getting fingered until he came and stroking Dietricht's penis with his hand and tonguing it or having it slide between his thighs until Dietricht climaxed were pleasurable solutions, but they were getting to where they weren't enough. Ira knew what would happen next between them – he could feel it, and he wanted it and his body was demanding it. It was getting to the point that he was almost ready to provoke Dietricht into taking him and consider the other two having turns and climaxing within him as a bonus. If it wouldn't cause so much damage, not only just between him and Dietricht, but between him and Panashri and Soong and the two men, he'd have given in already.

As it was, he could only try and ride out the urges, satisfying them as much with Dietricht when they had an opportunity as he could. If they hadn't already turned their original quarters back over to Bri to save money, he'd have simply gone there with Dietricht and probably just spent a day in the closed-up kitchen with a fire and some blankets to have sex until they weren't so incredibly horny anymore. He'd very likely have done it anyway if they weren't already occupied by new trainees freezing their way through a miserable winter.

So here he was instead, wandering through Ortana, looking for a large structure that could house nine or more people with a sufficient number of rooms to require no more than two to a room, that had at least one hot bath, a reasonable heating system, and windows that could actually be closed. A well-appointed inn would serve his needs nicely, but there weren't exactly any of those for rent. There was a closed, run-down inn that had previously served patrons not far from the forest gate, but again he'd have to buy the place, and have it renovated to boot.

That would be far better than building one, which with the scarcity of materials raised the price from prohibitive to relatively astronomical, not to mention the necessity of clearing land outside of town since Ortana was old and its walls hadn't been extended in generations, so it was basically full.

Demolition of an existing structure and building on the lot might save them some on materials, but it was vanishingly unlikely that they'd be able to salvage and reuse more than half of what had gone into the original structure.

When it came down to it Ortana simply wasn't that wealthy, due in large part to the economy being mainly based around the ever-renewing supply of Volunteer Soldiers rather than deriving that wealth from any large-scale generation of a domestic product.

For his part, Bri was obviously making out quite well in the current local economy, but that was because he owned large tracts of real estate with low overhead costs and an endless supply of revenue-generating tenants, not to mention whatever profit he generated additionally from running the Volunteer Soldier program with the associated fees. He also had what appeared to be an unbreakable monopoly on that market, short of being found in bed with a dead woman or a live boy.

Perhaps, Ira found himself thinking, it was time to leave Ortana altogether, make their way to a city on the war front. Both risks and rewards would be greater. Available work would be more frequently in direct service to the military and therefore pay directly in addition to whatever spoils they collected, but there was every chance that a commander would readily sacrifice a group of mercenaries, either deliberately to shield their own troops, or through simple incompetence or negligence.

Ira turned it all over in his mind, looking for the next step in the path forward as he walked Ortana's snow-dusted streets beneath the gray half-light of the cloudy morning sky.

"You're him."

Ira blinked, thoughts interrupted, half-turning, to see a man with short black hair and a short-cropped beard and mustache looking at him. He was perhaps as tall as Dietricht, with a lean, somewhat hungry look about him and an olive complexion. His gear had the look of a new trainee's, a breastplate over mail, legs guarded with studded leather, his boots plain brown leather. He looked, Ira thought, rather cold.

"Who?" Ira asked quietly.

"You're the leader of the group of nine that took down the four goblin captains in old Damuro. They've been talking about you for days." The dark-haired man took a step forward. "They said you took in three of another party and you turned them into a machine. I've seen you – at Shelly's Tavern. You could help us."

He was, Ira couldn't help but notice, really rather handsome. He might be trouble, but he might also be valuable. After all, the remnants of Dietricht's party might not have presented an appealing prospect, but they'd certainly proved themselves. Of course, in all honesty their initial appeal for Ira had been based on Dietricht's good looks. This man was also really rather attractive, but that was a thorny path to go down. Dietricht didn't want to share with Mikhev. It was highly unlikely he'd want to share with a new rival either.

It wouldn't be fair not to at least give him a chance, Ira thought as he looked the stranger up and down, admiring his long, muscular body. He might not even like men.

"Let's talk somewhere warm," Ira said with a small smile.

There were five of them. Evidently, Ira thought wryly, they'd come to him before they'd spiraled particularly deep into defeat. His amusement only increased when he discovered that there had originally been six of them, and they'd lost their martial artist quite early.

Germaine was the name of the dark-haired handsome man, and he was a Warrior. The other four sitting with them were Oboro, a Samurai with a passing resemblance to Soong in her facial features and her long, straight, thick black hair, though as tall as Ira himself; Martine, a Mentalist with a complexion the color of creamy coffee, fine features, and long black dreadlocks, about as tall as Yedani; Luisa, a Priest with fair skin, large dark eyes, and long, wavy black tresses, and equally about as tall, and Cassim, a Hunter who could have been Yedani's brother, with the same dusky complexion and long-lashed liquid night eyes, features chiseled, and tall and leanly muscular like Kanoha, his medium-length glossy black hair swept back.

Judging by the way the two women avoided so much as glancing in Cassim's direction and appeared to be trying to ignore the fact that he was even present, there was evidently a little bit of tension there.

"Well, I'm inclined to give you a trial run and see if you're worth your salt," Ira said once Germaine had finished relaying the gist of their story, resting his chin on the backs of his hands. "There's still the lion's share of the day left. We'll see how well you can remember instructions and role responsibilities."

Germaine stood. "Thank you. I really mean it." He looked grateful too, his beautiful light gray eyes echoing the relief on his ruggedly handsome face. It was another resemblance to Dietricht, one that sent up a warning flag that Ira ignored.

"Don't thank me yet." Ira smiled slightly. "Unless you're thanking me for the hot drinks, in which case you're quite welcome."

"I will be honored to learn from you," Oboro said, standing and bowing slightly.

Luisa and Cassim didn't look entirely convinced, or maybe they were just anxious and trying to avoid showing it. Mikhev might have been able to tell. It didn't really matter to Ira either way.

"You're the first Mentalist of my acquaintance," Ira said to Martine as he led the way out of the little tavern where they'd stopped for hot coffee. "What skills have you learned so far?"

Martine blinked, looking as though he were considering the question. "Only one actual Skill as I understand the term – which is Inertial Push. I can force something back, though not very quickly. It has yet to be terribly effective against the goblins which we have attempted to defeat in combat, other than keeping them at a distance."

Ira's eyebrows rose slightly. "It sounds like it could be quite useful to me – particularly if you use it to pin an enemy in place against a boulder or a tree, which would make them an easy target."

Martine blinked again, the motion slow, and cocked his head slightly to one side. "No such tactic had occurred to me. I shall employ it in our next engagement."

"Excellent idea." Ira managed to keep his voice merely crisp instead of dry. "Germaine – as a Warrior your responsibility is to intercept enemies and keep them busy – keep them away from the more vulnerable members of the party and kill them where possible. Oboro – you're a medium skirmisher. You'll need to prioritize taking on whatever enemies Germaine can't handle, or if that's not an issue, preventing escape and flanking them to pincer them when possible. What that means is that you'll come from the side or from the back so that they have to fight both of you at a disadvantage. Cassim, as a Hunter you're a light skirmisher and a suppressor – pin down enemies firing at range, and as with Oboro and Germaine, get in killing strikes when the opportunity is there. If Germaine or Oboro can't intercept an enemy before it gets to Luisa or Martine, then you need to."

Oboro nodded. Cassim said nothing and made no gesture, but Ira was reasonably sure he'd been heard.

"Luisa – your job is to stay back out of danger and manage your healing magic efficiently. Small scratches and little bruises that don't cause any real harm should be ignored, at least until you're through with combat for the day – you'll need to conserve your magic for genuine injuries like punctures, deep cuts, contusions, broken bones, concussions, dislocations, sprains, or anything that bleeds too profusely. As I'm sure they told you, you can't restore lost blood, only close wounds and put bone and flesh back in place. Your other job, in addition to monitoring the party, is to keep a sharp eye out for other enemies or dangers so that you're not taken by surprise. You need to be alert, and should only engage if a more vulnerable member is in danger, in this case Martine, or if you're the only one close enough to prevent a mortal blow."

Luisa frowned slightly. "But won't it help if more of us fight?"

Ira shook his head. "Not if you're killed, and once you get to the more organized groups, they _do_ target healers. The front line is for those heavily or moderately armored like Germaine and Oboro. They're better equipped. The absolute worst thing that could happen is that an enemy gets the drop on you and comes after you or Martine. Make sure that doesn't happen."

Luisa nodded.

Ira turned his attention once more to Martine. "You and I are controllers, Martine. We incapacitate, divide, and where possible, kill enemies, in that order. We have to keep the pressure on the front lines – that's Germaine and Oboro – from becoming more than they can handle."

"This makes sense." Martine looked ahead and nodded. "Yes. I understand. For the time being my duty shall be to incapacitate an enemy by doing as you suggested – pinning them between my unstoppable force and an immovable object until they can be disposed of."

"Precisely." Ira wasn't at the point of saying he was pleased – he'd have to see how well they handled their responsibilities for that – but so far things looked relatively promising. They assembled at the forest gate, and Ira got a look at their gear as they headed out into the forest. It was mostly as he'd expected.

Germaine's weapon was the great sword, a massive two-handed blade that he carried over one shoulder.

Oboro had, to Ira's mild surprise, a straight sword rather than an actual katana, though it was by no means the size of Germaine's, but it had a long blade and hilt. Then again, the katanas that he'd seen available for sale in the markets had been quite expensive. Her armor was actual wood, row upon row of little overlapping wooden tiles sewn onto leather backing that covered her chest, shoulders, and thighs, and she had on hakama – loose, wide pleated pants above her thick woolen socks and wooden clogs.

Martine had a thick, long-sleeved gray shirt with a high collar that came to the top of his neck and buttons down the right side of the chest over loose pants the same drab color. Like Oboro, he had on thick woolen stockings and wooden clogs. His weapon was a simple baton of bronze with a wooden haft.

Cassim's armor was much the same as Kanoha's had been – knee-high boots, tight hose, his tunic of uneven swatches of dull brown and green stitched together, bow, quiver, and long knife slung from the leather harness over his torso.

Cassim gave Ira a sharp look when Ira told him to hunt up a group of goblins, but he did as bade. It didn't take them terribly long to find a group of three huddled around their fire.

"Oboro, come from the left," Ira said quietly. "Whistle once you're in position. That will be the signal for Cassim to start firing, and Germaine, you'll charge them. The rest of us will come in behind you. Cassim, switch to your knife once we're close in. Martine, watch for your opportunity to pin one of them."

Ira quite likely could have killed all three with a minimum of effort, but this fight wasn't about him. It was about the resolve of these five and their ability to act and react.

Oboro whistled. Two of the goblins stood up, peering towards the sound. The one that had remained sitting jumped with a squalling noise as an arrow thumped into the hard ground next to it. Germaine charged and all three goblins turned to look at him, eyes darting, drawing their daggers. Another arrow skipped off of a rock. Ira heard Cassim swear behind them.

Oboro came out of the brush like a whirlwind, the goblin nearest her only making it halfway through a turn before her blade was halfway through its neck and it slumped to the ground on her sword. She didn't let it slow her momentum but pivoted and kicked, her clog crashing into the ribs of the middle goblin, which grunted and clutched its side, and then fell over to avoid a horizontal slash from Germaine's sword. It was still scrambling to get to its feet when that big blade came down again, this time vertically, across its back. It let out a squeal, clawing at the hard ground.

The third goblin looked like it was trying to fight a hurricane wind none of the rest of them could feel, digging in its feet to no avail, sliding backward over the hard, snow-dusted earth. Martine stood a little distance away, hands held palm out in front of him, expression fixed in a look of concentration.

Germaine brought his great sword down point first on the goblin whose spine he'd severed, driving it through the torso, and the green-skinned creature shuddered and lay still. Oboro braced her foot on the corpse of the first goblin and wrenched her sword free of its vertebrae.

Cassim was standing next to Martine, taking aim with his bow. This time the arrow slammed into the third goblin's stomach and it doubled over, losing its balance and tumbling a little bit faster over the ground until it fetched up against a tree trunk. Cassim put his bow away, unsheathed his long knife, and shoved it right into the goblin's throat.

Black eyes bulged, and then went wide and still.

It was clear that Oboro was the one to watch. She hadn't hesitated at all, even when her sword had been lodged in the goblin's brain stem, still moving on the attack. Germaine had also done well, as had Martine. Cassim needed to work on his aim.

"Well done, everyone." Ira said, clapping briefly. "Cassim, I'm sure your aim will improve with practice." Cassim shot him an irritated look, which Ira ignored. "Now let's grab the loot, which is the reason we're even bothering with this, and see what we've got."

"Teeth," Cassim muttered as he opened the pouch of the goblin he'd slain with Martine's help. "A handful of copper coins and a few useless teeth."

Ira shook his head. "They wouldn't carry them if they were worthless – let me see."

Cassim tossed them on the ground and started counting the coppers. Ira's eyebrows rose briefly as he picked up the teeth. "Black wolf teeth. These will fetch more than a silver each in the market in Ortana."

 _That_ got Cassim's attention, and everyone else's as well.

"So those roots and stones and teeth and feathers we just assumed were garbage . . ." Germaine shook his head, expression incredulous.

"Yes," Ira said simply. "Come on – we're wasting daylight."

He supposed it was good that Germaine's party wasn't completely new to battle. They were clearly over any squeamishness they might have felt initially, which he partly suspected was due to witnessing the death of their martial artist – what had his name been again? Brad? Barry? Germaine had mentioned it, but Ira couldn't recall. It was of no real consequence anyway at this point.

Luisa did end up using her healing magic a few times, though it was with very visible distaste when she had to use it on Cassim to heal a deep, jagged cut in his thigh, and that only after Ira told her to.

They took a break at midafternoon, settling themselves around a goblin fire. It put Ira in mind of a similar day with his own party, particularly the fish cooking over the flames that the goblins hadn't had a chance to eat. That day, he'd forced Felicia to become a semi-useful member of the party. None of Germaine's group seemed anywhere near being that feckless, but Ira couldn't help but wonder what had caused the very visible aversion between Cassim and the women and if it might not end similarly.

"Here Ira, the ground's cold."

Ira barely had a moment to register the words and then he was pulled into Germaine's lap, the Warrior's arms wrapped around him. It _was_ warmer, but it was also another step down that thorny path to certain trouble.

"Germaine." Ira shook his head slightly, trying to dredge up some resolve. "I'm – I'm actually in a relationship. With Dietricht. One of the three who joined our party that you mentioned. He's . . . kind of the jealous type."

He felt Germaine shrug at his back. "He's not here. You are, and I am. I'm not worried about a little competition. I had a feeling you wanted me, and now I'm sure of it. I want you right back, and not just because we're having our first really successful day, though we definitely owe that to you. You're smart and attractive. If it has to come down to you choosing between the two of us, then give me an honest shot and may the best man win."

Ira was reasonably sure he should get up at that point, but Germaine's arms around him _did_ feel awfully nice. Germaine had also called him attractive as well as smart. Germaine was also quite handsome, not more so than Dietricht, but rather in a different way. He should get up, but he couldn't quite manage to make himself do it.

If any of the other four members of Germaine's party had an opinion, they kept it to themselves.

They returned to Ortana in the late afternoon, verging towards evening and dusk. It had been a good day's work even if they hadn't had a completely full day of it, netting four silvers and twenty-two coppers each all told, Ira included.

"Will you join us for dinner?" Germaine asked, his arm around Ira's back as they walked back into Ortana.

"I actually want to have a chat with Bri," Ira said. "Then I'll probably head back to our quarters."

Germaine nodded. "I'll walk you there. I'm not quite ready to give you up just yet."

Ira felt a definite sense of misgiving, but couldn't argue. He'd already fantasized about being bent over, Germaine taking him from behind, thrusting deep into his body, even taking turns with Dietricht doing the same, both of them climaxing, cocks pulsating, blowing their loads deep inside of him as he panted and shuddered and came himself.

Bri glanced up as they came in. "Well now – recruiting is up for that clan of yours I see."

Ira shook his head. "It isn't something we've discussed. I just-"

"Saved our lives by telling us what we were supposed to be doing," Germaine cut in, arm around Ira squeezing briefly. "So you're starting a clan. You've got us for sure."

"I . . . suppose I am." Ira shook his head, lowering his hood and loosening his scarf to hang over his shoulders. "Bri, we need more space so we can have some privacy. I know you've got a big share of real estate here in Ortana. I'd like to be able to rent a place, but I can't find one."

"You mean for all of you to save on individual living expenses at half a dozen places around town." Bri straightened from his usual lean over the counter, shrugging and crossing an arm over his chest. "I heard you'd asked about the old inn close to the forest gate and figured that was the case. I'll be honest with you, birdy – there's no place for rent like that, just shuttered old buildings that you'd have to fix up. I'm guessing you just came to me for confirmation of that, though."

"Let's just say I was hoping against hope," Ira replied dryly.

"I'll tell you what, birdy. I'm not going to do the work of fixing up a place just for you to rent it for a while." Bri flicked his fingers. "But when you're ready to fly, I'll buy it from you at cost plus the value of the renovations."

It wasn't a generous deal, especially since Bri's buying offer would likely still come in under the total expense once all was said and done, but it wasn't exactly a bad one. Well, as long as it didn't burn down anyway. It _did_ make buying and renovating significantly more attractive than renting given the assurance of the return of capital.

"It's a deal." Ira held out his hand, and Bri gave it an airy little shake and smiled that impish smile of his.

"So a single large house for all of us." Germaine wrapped his arm around Ira once more as they stepped out into the street. "You actually have enough money to do that?"

"Yes, and from the asking around I did before I ran into you this morning, the renovations and associated permit as well, with some to spare." Ira shrugged. "I'd expected it was going to be the only feasible course, but without his offer to buy, it just wasn't an attractive prospect if we planned to leave Ortana in the near future. It's going to take time to hire artisans and laborers, and more time for them to complete the work."

Germaine's brow furrowed. "You're thinking about leaving Ortana?"

"Eventually, yes." Ira gave Germaine a sidelong look and a small smile. "The military offers pay instead of living only off of spoils like we do now, but also a degree of risk. I'm still turning over the possibilities. I've no intention of allowing some smug, incompetent jackass in a uniform to sacrifice us on a whim. In the meantime, the gnolls in the Hills of Bowen are beginning to look like our next appropriate target. It wouldn't be too much different than preying on the goblins in old Damuro under the four captains, quite possibly with better loot since they're a species actively engaged in trading with other nonhuman races."

"You've put a lot of thought into this." Germaine looked mildly taken aback, but he didn't move his arm.

"I've been thinking about it for several days, and like I said, that was my morning up until we met," Ira said dryly.

"I can tell." Germaine grinned and glanced up at the darkening sky. "I guess I'd better get you home so I can go tell the others we're joining your clan."

Ira patted Germaine's large hand where it was wrapped around his ribs. "Don't you mean ask them?"

"After today, I already know what they'll say." Germaine looked back down at Ira. "You're amazing, you know that?" he said quietly.

Ira blinked, blushing slightly, and then froze as Germaine's free hand tugged down his scarf, and suddenly Germaine's mouth was on his. His eyelids wanted to slide closed. He couldn't stop them. Germaine's kiss was just as debilitating as Dietricht's, sending threads of heat shooting through his veins. Germaine hefted him easily with that one arm around him, other hand cupping Ira's bottom. His mouth grew insistent, and Ira couldn't withhold anything, opening his mouth. With a satisfied noise, Germaine took full position of Ira's mouth, tongue sliding in.

It felt like an all too brief eternity before Germaine broke the kiss, both of them breathing hard. "You really are amazing," he rasped. He kissed Ira again, briefly but hard. "Just say the word – I'll take you back to our quarters and we'll finish this out with me all the way in you."

It was a good thing he asked instead of simply doing it, because Ira wouldn't have been able to resist. Ira smiled at him. "I can't. As horny as I am, I'd love it, but I can't. I have to get back before they come looking for me."

Germaine chuckled, the sound a little rueful. "Not the answer I was hoping for, but you're probably right."

He held onto Ira during the walk back, up until Ira quietly mentioned that their quarters were around the next corner. Germaine shook his head, bent and gave Ira another long kiss, and then let go.

Ira took a moment to compose himself, and then started forward.

He walked around the corner and was almost run down by Dietricht, brow furrowed, features tense. The dark red-haired Knight stopped short as he took in Ira, features relaxing, and then picked him up in both arms and thoroughly kissed him, tongue and all, one big hand kneading his bottom, until Ira was breathless again and practically ready to demand to be taken right then and there.

"I was just coming to look for you," Dietricht said, breaths gradually slowing. "I wasn't expecting you to be gone all day."

Ira gave him an abashed smile. "I was looking into alternate living arrangements, and then-"

"He recruited us. Well, I kind of got down on my knees and begged him to take us is closer to the truth of it." For the first time that day, Germaine actually sounded somewhat _bashful_. "He was teaching us how not to get killed out there. We actually did really well with him as our leader."

Dietricht looked away from Ira, taking in Germaine, and then back at Ira. "Starting that clan then, are we?" He smiled.

Ira nodded, hands resting on Dietricht's broad shoulders, feeling the strength in them beneath his fingers. "The living arrangements are going to be as bad as I thought – we're going to have to buy a place and renovate it. Bri's promised to buy it for a reasonable if probably slightly low price when we decide to leave Ortana, though. It's a much better deal than all of us taking individual rooms all over town for a slightly higher total price, about the same amount of privacy, and no returns."

Dietricht snorted and shook his head, but he was still smiling. "You are damned amazing, you know that?" Then he kissed Ira again.

Germaine cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but maybe Ira'd be more comfortable inside? It's a little cold out here." He held out his hand. "I'm Germaine by the way. It's an honor to meet you guys. Everyone's heard about the way you took down the four goblin captains in old Damuro."

Dietricht continued to hold Ira with one arm and shook Germaine's hand with the other. "Dietricht, and I came from kind of a similar circumstance."

Germaine leaned in, speaking quietly, but not so quietly that Ira couldn't hear.

"You're one damned lucky son of a bitch, stud," Germaine murmured, clapping Dietricht on the back and grinning as he straightened.

"Don't I know it." Dietricht smiled at Ira, and then his smile turned just a little bit rueful. "It's funny that he mentioned the goblin captains – we've had the three survivors from Janvlngot here cooling their heels for a couple of hours. They're asking – well, demanding to join us. We all agreed we should wait for you." He turned to go in, and glanced back at Germaine. "You can come in if you'd like, have something hot to drink before you head back."

Germaine nodded, still grinning. "I'd like that."

"It might look better if I walked in," Ira said quietly.

Dietricht blinked, and then shook his head and set Ira down. "Sorry about that. I just – everything's right for me when I've got my hands on you. I guess I shouldn't haul you around like a good luck charm though."

It was Ira's turn to shake his head and smile. "I like it when you manhandle me, but I should probably look at least a little imposing for my first impression with these people."

Dietricht's smile came right back, eyes lighting, and he leaned down and kissed Ira briefly again. "I promise to manhandle you later," he said huskily.

Germaine chuckled at that, and Dietricht grinned at him before turning to lead the way once more.

There were, as he'd said, three of them. They didn't look like beginners, at least, though that was no guarantee of their skill in a fight.

Uktemmbo was a Barbarian, taller than Kanoha but not quite as tall as Dietricht. He was broader across but still all muscle, deep chest and chiseled abs visible through the divide in his hide vest, thick legs filling out his hide leggings beneath his hide loincloth, feet and calves wrapped in thick moccasins. His skin was almost pure black, dark eyes large and intelligent, black hair cropped short, close to the skull, with an incongruously well-trimmed goatee.

Xiang-Min was a Bard, wearing a long-sleeved, fitted leather jacket that came down just to her waist, a fluffy spill of red ruffles at her bosom on her crimson shirt, legs encased in tight white leather trousers and black calf-high boots. Her face was rounder in shape that Oboro or Soong's, but she had similar eyes. Unlike either of them, her black hair was hardly long enough to reach her shoulders. She looked like she might actually be just a touch shorter than even Yedani.

Trent was a Mage, wheat-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with a bronze ribbon, eyes pale green, his hip-length coat and hose the color of cream, shirt snowy white, boots a pale, barely tan color. He was probably an inch shorter than Ira, maybe a little less, not quite tall enough to meet him eye to eye.

"We're not saying what Ynifa did was right," Uktemmbo said. For some reason Ira hadn't expected his voice to be a mild baritone. "But we ended up being collateral damage so you could claim that bounty. You owe us. So we want in."

"Today does seem to be the day for new members." Ira gave Germaine a small, sidelong smile before returning his attention to their other three guests. "We operate fairly simply. What we make is divided equally between everyone. That being said, its become practice for those of us who don't need armor as much to contribute at least a little to those who do – front-line and medium skirmishers, mostly. We also pool our money for other purposes, and you're expected to participate proportionately. Right now we're beginning the process of acquiring a location for new, more comfortable communal living quarters so we can have a little privacy while still keeping individual living expenses relatively low."

Uktemmbo shrugged. "We agree to your terms, Demon of Damuro."

Ira's eyebrows rose slightly, but it was Dietricht and Germaine who got up out of their seats.

"What did you just call him?" Dietricht growled.

Uktemmbo just looked up at them. "It's what they're calling him in the taverns – he's the one who masterminded the fall of all four captains, is he not?"

"Personally I think it's a rather impressive moniker," Trent interjected.

"I kind of like it myself," Mikhev added, folding his arms and smiling at Ira. "It's kind of intimidating, don't you think?"

"Your idea?" Ira asked dryly.

Mikhev grimaced slightly and shrugged. "Not originally, though . . . I might have repeated it once or twice here and there . . . and added in a few details from what actually happened to really give it some substance."

Ira rolled his eyes.

"Perhaps next time you could come up with something less . . . dire, dear," Panashri said, shooting a pointed look at Mikhev.

Mikhev dropped his gaze, studying his crossed legs.

"Not that I'm agreeing with Mikhev, but you're kind of a bad-ass that way, Ira." Miguel shrugged. "It's sort of a compliment."

"You've mentioned maybe working for the military, and that kind of reputation would be good to have preceding us," Yedani pointed out.

"I didn't do any of that on my own." Ira waved it off. "It would have been more appropriate say _we_ were the _Demons_ of Damuro, but I suppose it's of little consequence. At any rate, welcome, all of you. There's no clan name or any other such formality yet. That's all yet to be determined."

"Excellent." Uktemmbo stood. "Now, where am I sleeping?"

Ira blinked at that. Somehow people still managed to come up with the strangest surprises. "You don't have a place to stay?"

"I was determined not to be turned down," Uktemmbo replied simply.

"Rent was . . . a little pricey for that rat-hole with just the three of us." Trent grimaced.

"I need a bed too," Xiang-Min added.

"We have one bed open in the men's bunk room and one in the women's at our quarters." Germaine jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "So two of you can come with me."

"I'll share Miguel's bunk for a little while." Mikhev's tone was casual. "Then we can fit everyone until something else gets worked out."

"You're sure as hell not," Miguel retorted, face reddening.

"You're not big enough to stop me." Mikhev crossed the room and put an arm around Miguel's shoulders. "So you're going to be my little spoon. Don't worry, I'm not going to try anything."

"I'm not reassured by that," Miguel growled.

"I'll share your bunk instead, if you'd prefer someone who will try something," Uktemmbo said plainly, head tilting sideways as his gaze slid down Miguel's body.

Miguel's face reddened further. He said something, though it was too quiet for Ira to hear.

Mikhev grinned. "Don't worry Miguel – I'll keep you safe."

Trent cleared his throat, looking just a little uncomfortable. "I think I'll go with Germaine."

"Let's all agree to meet here tomorrow at sunrise for breakfast," Ira said loudly, clapping his hands once to get everyone's attention. "Then we'll head to old Damuro."

The bath was a little crowded that night after dinner while the men were taking their turn.

Ira didn't even pretend to object when Dietricht pulled him into his lap, just leaned back into him, fingers laced with Dietricht's hand over his belly, other hand lightly caressing Dietricht's thigh, Dietricht's other hand on his ribs, thumb making little circles on his skin, wishing the half-erect penis against his back was fully erect instead and plunging deep into him before withdrawing only to dive in again. Dietricht pressed little kisses to the back of Ira's neck, his shoulder, his collarbone, and murmured things that heated Ira's blood in his ears.

Mikhev tried to pull Miguel into his lap and got punched in the ear for his trouble, moving his thigh in time to block a knee to his crotch. He subsided, and Miguel shook his head and sat, closing his eyes.

Uktemmbo let out a sigh as he settled into the hot water next to Dietricht and Ira. "Judging by the way he's horning on your cock, your leader needs fucked." His tone was casual as he glanced over at Dietricht. "If you're not going to do it, I will. I can clearly see that he has needs just like the rest of us, and you should satisfy them."

"First off – I will rip off your junk if you try it," Dietricht said, voice tight. "And second, if I thought Mikhev and Kanoha wouldn't try to join in, I'd be balls deep in him. I know what he needs and I need it just as bad, but we have to have some privacy first."

"What he said." Ira pointed over his shoulder at Dietricht.

"Ah. I see." Uktemmbo glanced over at Mikhev and Kanoha. "I thought you liked women as well. None of them will satisfy you?"

"Not without more privacy." Mikhev grimaced and shrugged. "And then only during certain times of the month to reduce the risk of pregnancy."

Kanoha nodded. "My situation is the same, as is Miguel's."

"I haven't tried to get into her pants yet," Miguel interjected irritably. "I'd like to get to know her first instead of acting like a dog in heat."

"Your restraint is both admirable and unusual." Uktemmbo nodded at Miguel. "My earlier offer will still stand if you ever reconsider."

Miguel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

"I'm almost to the point where I'd consider it myself," Mikhev said wryly.

Uktemmbo stood at that, water streaming from his rapidly engorging penis. He stroked it and it rose swiftly to bob against his hard-muscled belly. It looked to be about as long as Mikhev's full erection, only a little thicker in girth.

Mikhev stared for a moment, face turning as red as Miguel's had been during the discussion in the kitchen, mouth opening slightly, evidently not expecting to be taken seriously. "I – err -"

"What will it take to convince you?" Uktemmbo asked calmly, giving his cock another stroke.

"I'm not quite to that point yet," Mikhev said hastily. "But I'll uh – let you know if I get there."

"If you'd like, you can share a bunk with me. I can be gentle, or rough if that's what you'd prefer," Uktemmbo added. "You would have to be the little spoon at first, but if you please me well, I might allow you the same pleasure."

Mikhev shook his head quickly. "I uh – I'll share a bunk with Miguel for now."

Miguel snickered.


	5. Chapter 5: Getting To Know You

**Author's Notes:** **Coitus. The big heave-ho. Also a slight change of scenery.**

* * *

Chapter 5

Getting To Know You

Getting To Know All About You

To Ira's surprise, Uktemmbo was up before any of them, and he came back from the market with fresh eggs for breakfast, arriving only a little after Ira had started the fires in the kitchen.

"Your men are considerate of you," he said as he set down his burden on the kitchen table. "Both show you respect. This is good."

"I – there's really only the one at the moment," Ira said, heat rising to his face.

"Germaine considers himself as much your man as Dietricht. It was in his actions and face last night," Uktemmbo said, just as straightforward as before. "This is fortunate."

"Ah." Ira really didn't want to discuss the subject any further, especially where Dietricht might hear. "Thank you for getting eggs for breakfast."

"It was my habit when I lived in trainee quarters before. I find the walk gives me time to think and consider." Uktemmbo squatted in front of the oven, adding another log to the fire. "These past few days I had much time to walk and think."

"Good morning," Yedani said quietly as she entered.

"Miss Yedani." Uktemmbo inclined his head. "Thank you again for saving our lives."

Ira didn't miss the way her eyes flicked momentarily to him, doubtless very clearly recalling the conversation that followed that selfless and very nearly fatal act.

"You're welcome," she said quietly. "It seems you are paying us in kind by joining us."

"It is survival, but I will pleased to repay your act if the chance comes," Uktemmbo replied. "Do you cook, then?"

Yedani nodded. "I enjoy it. It's familiar, and that is comforting."

"Very good. I will stay out of your way then," Uktemmbo said, and straightened. "I will light the outside hearth."

Yedani nodded again. "Thank you." She watched him go, and then got out oil and flour. "He is a very practical man, though I do not think he sees value in sophistication. Perhaps that is why he chose the Barbarian job."

Ira nodded. "He also seems to see beyond petty and ultimately wasteful ideas like revenge."

Yedani smiled slightly. "That also appears to be another way you are dissimilar."

Ira half-shrugged. "I make no apologies for something I don't regret. None of you are expendable."

Yedani shook her head slightly, but her smile remained. "It used to frighten me a little bit – how fiercely strong you are. It's actually reassuring though, knowing that you defend us with that strength." She turned and looked at him. "You will forgive me, I hope. I do not mean to betray your trust again."

"Forgiven, if not forgotten." Ira gave her a crooked smile. "And that assurance is a relief."

"Indeed." Panashri swept in, gave Yedani a quick hug, and took the mixing bowl in her arms from her, setting it on the table and getting a baking pan down from one of the shelves, placing it nearby. "So tell us – what do you think about these new members?" she asked as she sat down at the table, added water to the mixing bowl, and started mixing dough.

"Germaine's group seems fairly solid, though there's some tension between Cassim and the women that I haven't figured out yet," Ira said as he put the largest frying skillet on the grilling frame over the fire and started cracking eggs. "They were in a similar boat to Dietricht's group before they joined us, just less dire. As far as Uktemmbo and the other two – we'll have to find out. I thought another trip to familiar territory in old Damuro would give us a chance to see how well everyone does. I'd also like to get an idea of how larger group tactics will end up working for us." He smiled, a touch ruefully. "Seventeen people all of a sudden. It's kind of a big change."

"Can we have those weird fluffy egg dumpling things again?" Soong asked, leaning in through the kitchen door.

"Yes," Panashri called back without missing a beat. "And don't forget to put my hair brush back when you're done using it."

"I will. Is Ira cooking the eggs?"

Ira glanced over his shoulder at Soong. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I like your eggs – you use plenty of garlic, just enough pepper, and you don't salt them to death like Kanoha."

"Too much salt isn't good for you, and it's also expensive to buy." Ira shook his head. "We should be using it very sparingly."

"Tell that to him," Soong said before ducking out.

Germaine showed up at sunrise as instructed with the other six members of what would at some point probably have to formally become a clan. A little to Ira's surprise, they brought stuffed rice balls to have for lunch later on.

"Oboro made them," Germaine explained with a grin. "She's actually a pretty decent cook." He sniffed. "Breakfast smells good."

They were through the forest gate and on their way to Damuro before too much of the morning had passed. Ira couldn't help but be distracted by the fact that Dietricht and Germaine were talking as they walked behind him. They seemed, he thought, to be getting on particularly well, but then they were, from what he'd seen, metaphorically cut from a similar cloth, so he supposed it was natural. Still, it made him a little bit nervous.

Kanoha and Yedani had taken the lead as a matter of habit, Mikhev and Uktemmbo next in line before Ira and Panashri, and then after Dietricht and Germaine, Trent and Martine, Soong and Luisa, Oboro and Tamiya, Xiang-Min and Miguel, and Cassim brought up the rear.

Dietricht and Germaine weren't the only two getting along well – Soong and Luisa had struck up a conversation about hair. Even Oboro and Tamiya exchanged a word here and there. On the other hand, Cassim had yet to say a word. His silence wasn't exactly the stoic sort like Kanoha's. If anything he seemed to have an air about him that might well have been distaste.

Ira was considering asking Kanoha to give Cassim a few pointers on his aim, but wasn't sure how well that might be received. Kanoha wasn't a woman, and it was women that Cassim seemed to have difficulty with, but he hadn't been at all appreciative when his marksmanship was implicitly criticized by Ira the day before.

With seventeen of them the goblins really didn't stand much of a chance, though Ira gained a new appreciation for how enclosed spaces limited the effectiveness of that many people and relatively open ground made it easier to fully utilize a larger group. There were only so many people that could fit in a confined space at a time, making it possible to create a choke point where a smaller number of defenders could keep a greater number of attackers at bay.

Yedani had called Ira fierce that morning, but Oboro really embodied the word – she didn't snarl or howl or make flashy moves – she was simply utterly relentless and ruthlessly efficient. Uktemmbo by contrast was the loud one – swinging his double-bladed great axe with with grunts and howls that seemed to intimidate the goblins at least, even if they seemed a little silly to Ira.

Xiang-Min was surprisingly useful. Her songs didn't seem either terribly interesting or awful to Ira's ears, her voice accented with the use of a simple tambourine, but the goblins twitched and clawed at their ears, eyes blinking as though invisible biting gnats were swarming them. A different song made them stagger in their steps, moves awkward and a little sluggish, as though somewhat intoxicated.

Trent used spells of both fire and water – flat, short-ranged bursts of flame that seared goblin flesh and walls of leaping fire that divided their ranks or cut off retreat, or floating orbs extending writhing tentacles of water that pulled at arms and legs and weapons, or slashing whips of water that made sharp cuts in goblin flesh.

Cassim remained dour, but he also participated, using his bow when at range, and then closing in with his knife. His aim had gotten somewhat better over the course of the morning.

It was a slaughter that day, but the swiftness and efficiency with which they dispatched their prey made it a relatively profitable slaughter for all of them despite their large numbers.

"I think this will be our last day in old Damuro unless the new Damuro goblins come back," Ira said in the early afternoon as they took a break and enjoyed the rice balls Oboro had made, which turned out to be stuffed with sweet onions and chicken, or omelet, or fried pork. "Tomorrow I'm going to ask around about the gnolls and the Hills of Bowen – the rest of you are welcome to do the same. We'll also need to settle on a selection for the clan hold. Germaine – you and Oboro, Luisa, Martine, and Cassim will want to look into getting better gear and learning at least one new skill. You'll receive additional funds to use towards the purchase of that gear."

Germaine nodded and smiled. "That's much appreciated."

They left old Damuro as the sun was sinking close to the horizon. They were, Ira realized as he glanced at it, getting close to mid-winter. The longest night of the year was only two days away, and then the days would begin to gradually lengthen once more instead of shortening. The days moved quickly. It had already been months now since his inexplicable arrival, devoid of any memory of his past. Where had those memories gone? What of the time he couldn't recall?

"Ira." Germaine's voice interrupted Ira's thoughts.

Ira glanced back at Germaine.

"Gomer – is he coming back with us?" Germaine pointed at the goblin trundling along at Ira's heel. "It just seems a little – I don't know – do you tie him up or something?"

Ira shook his head. "He'll only go part of the way with us. That's . . . as far as he goes."

Tamiya had taken over the duty of ending Gomer each day. She said it was for her Vices, which Ira supposed was true enough, but he suspected she did it to spare him the act just as Yedani had, and while it wasn't the greatest burden lifted from his shoulders, he nonetheless appreciated it.

They stopped still a good ways from the forest gate, and Ira watched Germaine watch Tamiya and Gomer go into the woods. He watched understanding cross Germaine's features. The light gray eyes went to him.

"I take no pleasure in it, but . . . I couldn't risk him remembering us. Warning others. Well, just warning others now, I suppose," Ira said quietly.

Germaine nodded slowly.

Dietricht's arm wrapped gently around Ira's shoulders. Ira stood and waited for Tamiya to come back alone. She was very tidy about it – there was no blood on her, her sword cleaned and sheathed. She might have been coming back from a little walk but for the small, crude pouch in one hand and the equally crude little helmet in the other.

"There probably isn't enough room for all of us to sit together at Shelly's," Ira said as they walked back through the forest gate. "Do we want to reconvene at quarters after everyone's had a chance to clean up and get comfortable?"

"And get beer." Germaine grinned broadly. "We're celebrating I believe – today was the last day in Damuro."

"For a long while at least," Ira replied with an amused smile. "Don't spend too much on that beer. You've got a lot to do tomorrow that's going to need cash."

Germaine bowed slightly, still smiling. "Of course."

They were all up later than usual that night. Ira refrained from drinking more than two mugs of beer. Most of the others were decidedly more enthusiastic, and Ira didn't hold it against them. It was their first really festive event where it was just them, and a good opportunity to really be social without thoughts of combat the next day weighing over them. They were three disparate groups, which hopefully would merge into one. A cheerful celebratory gathering was, Ira was reasonably confident, a good step in that direction. There were too many of them to stand in the kitchen, but even though they had to spill out into the yard, the well-fed hearth gave out enough heat to keep the air from being more than chilly.

Ira had been a little concerned about Germaine spending the coin to buy a small keg for all of them to drink out of, but Dietricht had gone with him and made a pretty big deal about how little they'd actually spent on it.

Cassim, like Ira, didn't drink much. In fact he looked frankly a little uncomfortable drinking, and also a little bewildered. Ira wondered if it was a discomfort he couldn't remember the reason for, something in the past they'd all lost.

Oboro, to Ira's surprise, drank a lot, keeping right up with Mikhev, Dietricht, Germaine, Uktemmbo, and Trent, and Tamiya matched them almost mug for mug. Kanoha and Soong disappeared midway through the evening.

Luisa, to Ira's surprise, settled right next to him where he'd settled in the kitchen.

"There's something . . . oddly familiar, and comforting, in the way you are," she said, sipping from her mug.

"Oh?" Ira asked quietly.

"Yes." Luisa smiled sidelong at him. "It's strange, but it's like I've known someone like you. Likes guys. A little on the quiet side. Not big or burly but still fiercely protective."

"Someone you knew from before," Ira said, knowing she'd know what he meant: those feelings and reflexive reactions, the bits of disembodied knowledge from the time before their memories began.

She nodded.

"What happened with Cassim?" he asked quietly.

She snorted quietly. "I could almost have felt sorry for him if he wasn't such a rude, chauvinistic prick. That day when we woke here, in this place . . . he looked horrified when he saw the girls. He said we were all immodest, shameless whores, sleeping in the same place as men, our heads uncovered. Naturally, we demanded to know how he could dare speak to us that way, call us those names. He didn't know why he even thought it."

Ira glanced at Cassim, and then at Luisa. "Not the best of first impressions. He hasn't apologized?"

She shook her head. "He's stand-offish and a little condescending when he absolutely has to speak to someone female. Sometimes I want to grab him by the ear, sit him down, and tell him how to act. Other times I just want to hit him in the head with something heavy."

Ira smiled slightly. "Sounds somewhat familiar, actually."

"Yes, Panashri told me about your martial artist." Luisa closed her eyes for a moment, brow furrowing. "I'm not sure what it is about that job, but . . ." She trailed off with a shrug, head tilting slightly sideways. "I suppose she at least did some good in the end."

"More or less," Ira said dryly. "Really I suppose we were fortunate in a way."

"Yes." Luisa took another sip of her drink. "I can tell that Yedani and Miguel are gradually becoming a couple. Kanoha and Soong must be one. Mikhev, I think, is trying to woo Panashri. Dietricht and . . . another are very clearly interested in you. Tamiya though . . . I get the impression that she's not attached. Does she like girls?"

Ira hadn't really considered the question. "I'm not sure. Why?"

"Oboro does." Luisa lifted her eyebrows. "I think Tamiya's caught her eye."

Ira considered that. Tamiya hadn't exactly seemed unusually warm towards any of the men that he'd noticed since he'd met her, so he supposed it was possible she might reciprocate, but then, he hadn't noticed her being especially attentive to any of the women either.

Of course, he hadn't exactly been all over the men in his own party, and Dietricht had really picked up the torch and taken the lead there. Even Mikhev and Kanoha had been more forward than he had. Was Tamiya like him – more inclined to let another take the lead when it came to romance?

"If they make each other happy, then I'm all for it." Ira brushed his hair back over one ear. "How about you, Luisa? Anyone caught your eye?"

She shook her head slightly. "Not as such." Then she glanced over at him and smiled. "But it's nice to have friends."

"Indeed." Ira smiled back, raising his mug, and she tapped it gently with her own.

It was probably about an hour until midnight when Dietricht bid everyone a good night, kissed Ira, and swept him up in his arms before carrying him upstairs.

"The others will probably be up before too long," he said in the darkness as they stopped in the doorway to the mens' bunk room.

Ira was about to suggest that a few minutes was plenty of time when he heard fabric whisper from Kanoha's bunk, and he understood. Dietricht stepped back out into the hall, setting Ira down and leaning against him, pressing him gently against the wall. He felt Dietricht's lips press against his own and surrendered willingly. Dietricht's hands slipped down his arms, settled at his hips, and one hand went to Ira's bottom as the other rubbed in circles at the small of his back.

Ira slipped one hand up Dietricht's shirt, fingers gliding over his tight-muscled abdomen, feeling the hairs as they traveled slowly to the broad, strapping, powerful chest. He laid his hand over Dietricht's heart, enjoying the feel of it beating fast.

His other hand went down the front of Dietricht's trousers, fingers caressing Dietricht's engorging half-hard cock. The air had turned a little cool when they'd left the warmth of the kitchen and the fireplace, but Ira didn't even notice it now, body hot. He stroked Dietricht's penis, and Dietricht reciprocated by sliding his hand down the back of Ira's trousers, fingers sliding into his valley and massaging his entrance.

There was the sound of light footsteps, and Dietricht broke the kiss for a moment. Ira stilled as Soong slipped out and tiptoed down the hall, waiting until he was sure she was inside the womens' bunk room.

Then he got down on one knee, unbuttoned Dietricht's trousers, and took the head of that massive penis into his mouth, listening to Dietricht's slow exhalation, one hand gently and tenderly cupping Dietricht's balls, the other sliding up to his abdomen, feeling it flex beneath his touch.

The taste, the silky feel of Dietricht's penis as Ira ran his tongue down the underside along the vas deferens to the base – it was intoxicating. He put his whole mouth on the side of Dietricht's rigid cock, like satin over steel, laving it on his way back up to its head. Dietricht's fingers settled gently on the back of Ira's head. Ira could hear his breaths, not quite soundless, quickened in pace.

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, the steps groaning with age. Dietricht pulled Ira to his feet, kissing him deeply, tongue sliding into Ira's mouth, and then broke the kiss, arms wrapping around him.

"Ira?" Miguel's voice was quiet.

"Dietricht and I were just . . . talking," Ira said, blushing in the darkness.

"Well, I think Mikhev is planning to come up in a few minutes. I umm . . . there's no one using the bath right at the moment." Miguel cleared his throat. "I'm going to head to bed."

"Thanks, Miguel," Dietricht said quietly.

To Ira's surprise, Miguel chuckled just a little. "You're welcome."

Ira took Dietricht's hand, felt Dietricht's larger fingers close gently around his, and they went back downstairs, reaching the bottom just as Mikhev came out of the kitchen. He folded his arms. Ira could dimly see the smirk on his features.

"Where are you two off to?" Mikhev asked.

"The baths. To clean up," Dietricht said. The way he said it was more than casual. It was _satisfied._ Ira knew it from hearing it after he and Dietricht had just finished helping each other climax.

"I see." Mikhev sounded mildly amused. "I might join you in a bit."

"If you'd like," Dietricht said easily.

That made Dietricht's head tilt slightly to one side. He shook it slightly after a moment. "Good night, guys."

"I'm impressed," Ira murmured as Dietricht shut the door to the bath behind them. "I think he actually bought it."

Dietricht laughed, albeit very quietly. "The smell from what Kanoha and Soong were doing will help."

A moment of concentration and a quick stream of breath, and the lamp in Ira's hand flickered to life. He smiled at Dietricht and started to undress.

In mere moments he was picking up where he'd left off, on his knees between Dietricht's legs, mouth on Dietricht's cock as Dietricht sat on one of the stools, fingers massaging Ira's sphincter. He had to use his hands as much as his mouth to really pleasure Dietricht – his fully erect penis was just too big for Ira to get it past the top of his throat. It was going to be a different story when Dietricht finally entered him though. Ira wasn't going to stop until Dietricht was in him to the hilt.

Dietricht's fingers worked their way into Ira's rectum, and Ira started rocking back onto them, licking, kissing, mouthing, sucking, stroking Dietricht's cock. He could hear Dietricht's breathing quicken, feel the beat of his heart through the shaft of his manhood. Dietricht found Ira's prostate, massaging it, and Ira gasped, bracing himself on Dietricht's thighs because his knees were suddenly weak, body trembling as pleasure rolled through it.

"That's right," Dietricht murmured. "That's so fucking right." His fingers withdrew for a moment, and then this time, three of them entered Ira, widening him further than he'd been before, a little bit of discomfort briefly making itself known before euphoric pleasure drowned it.

Suddenly his hands were under Ira's arms, lifting him, an arm sliding under his ribs and pulling him up, hands lifting his legs over Dietricht's thighs. Dietricht kissed him, and Ira's eyelids slid shut, only to flutter as Dietricht's fingers slipped back inside him, eliciting a moan muffed by Dietricht's mouth on his. He put his arms over Dietricht's shoulders for support, stroked the back of his neck, other hand splayed against Dietricht's upper back.

Dietricht broke the kiss, blue eyes aflame with passion. "Look at me," he said quietly, voice husky. "I want to see it in your eyes when you come. Look right at me and don't look away."

His fingers picked up the pace. Ira's eyes wanted to roll back in his head. He wanted to sag in Dietricht's arms but he couldn't, only able to keep his eyes on Dietricht's, transfixed by that smoldering sapphire stare. He felt it building within him, a flaring heat, a quivering pressure, sensation focused.

His world rocked so hard for a moment that he couldn't see as release snapped through him, blind to everything but the climax that crashed through his body. Dietricht's face came back into focus and he was smiling.

He kissed Ira again, one hand around his back, the other lining up his big, thick penis with Ira's valley, sliding along it, silky skin gliding over Ira's entrance. Ira could feel Dietricht's hand splayed across his butt cheeks, forming a hole that his massive cock slid through, in and out, moving faster and faster, tongue dancing wildly in Ira's mouth.

Ira felt him tense, and let out a muffled noise as Dietricht's penis pressed against his sphincter, then a louder cry as Dietricht pressed harder, thrust, and the fat, mushroom head of his cock entered in. Dietricht came inside of him, and Ira clung to him, feeling long jets of wet warmth flood into him.

Dietricht's kiss gentled, one hand rubbing Ira's back. He drew back slightly, expression tender. "Next time, Ira," he said quietly, voice raspy. "I'm going to bring some oil so I can get all the way into you."

Ira nodded.

"You know," Dietricht said later after they'd cleaned up and gotten into the bath. Ira was nestled into his lap. "We should make this a thing – take turns where each couple has the bath to themselves."

Ira blinked. "That's actually an excellent idea." He smiled and kissed Dietricht's chest. "It's about the only place we can really get any privacy, the door's sturdy, and we can clean up right afterwards."

Dietricht kissed Ira's forehead, lifted his chin with gentle fingers, and kissed his mouth. "I suppose we'll have to count this as our night."

"Our turn will come back around again," Ira said, smile widening.

"Dietricht had an excellent idea last night," Ira said at breakfast the next morning. "The only part of our quarters that doesn't see constant traffic is the baths. So, after both men and women are finished bathing, the idea is that a couple would get it for the night. We'd take turns, but that should alleviate some of the pressure that's been building around here. To make it fair, and also if a couple would prefer a little anonymity, individuals can reserve it as well, but again – only after everyone's actually bathed. Any objections?"

Eight faces looked back with them, several with not so subtle anticipation on their features. Soong laid her hand on the inside of Kanoha's thigh, getting a quick sideways grin from him.

"Who gets to go first?"

To Ira's surprise, the question wasn't Mikhev's, but Yedani's. Miguel looked a little startled as well.

Ira shrugged. "We had our turn last night."

Mikhev chuckled at that, shaking his head slightly.

Yedani glanced at Panashri. "May I?"

Panashri's smile was amused. "By all means."

Mikhev cleared his throat. Panashri shot him a look, and he subsided.

"Pana, did you want the next night?" Soong asked.

"If you don't mind." Panashri gave Soong a smile.

Soong nodded, glancing at Ira. "We shall ask for the next night after that, then."

Ira just shrugged. "Fine with me." He glanced at Tamiya and Uktemmbo. Tamiya just shook her head.

"I'll wait until after the two of you have had a turn, Ira," Uktemmbo said. "But yes, I would like a night myself. My only question is during the day on days when we aren't out of town."

Ira glanced around. "Any objections to good old first-come, first-served?"

No one objected.

"If anyone would like to join me in scouting out possibilities for the location for our new home, feel free to come along," Ira said. "Otherwise I expect I'll see the rest of you tonight."

While the closed and empty inn he'd only been half-seriously considering prior to Bri's offer was conveniently close to the forest gate, Ira wasn't inclined to settle on it without having a look around the rest of Ortana first. Dietricht had left Ira with a promise to meet him at midday for lunch after he'd taken his armor to get repaired and before they each reported to their Guilds to learn new skills.

Panashri had opted to join Ira, and a little to his surprise, so had Miguel and Uktemmbo.

"I think we'll want at least ten rooms – that's enough for twenty people if we're two to a room," Ira said as they walked. The day was cold and clear, not a cloud to be seen in the sky.

"We may want to consider more if we can get it at a decent price." Panashri tilted her head slightly sideways, expression thoughtful. "I have a feeling we'll be getting more people if we keep being this successful, particularly once we've established a formal clan. We're at seventeen now."

"Sensible." Ira agreed, privately hoping that the circumstances of their next group of recruits were less awkward than Uktemmbo, Xiang-Min, and Trent's.

There were actually quite a number of large, shuttered buildings standing unused in Ortana. It made Ira wonder just how long the town had been this way, if it had in fact once been larger, more affluent. Damuro had been a larger city, and it was now a ruin full of the goblins that had conquered it, probably cutting off a large part of Ortana's trade, maybe even the better part. If Ortana was in decline, however slow, that would explain the large number of Guilds with a disproportionately small amount of industry not oriented towards the Volunteer Soldiers.

Add in the attitude of larger organizations like the clans like Janvlngot that had just had their members scattered in accommodations around the city, and it explained quite a bit.

"We're . . . we're starting something big, aren't we?" Miguel's tone was contemplative.

Ira glanced over at him, and then back at the structure before them, the fourth such that they'd looked at. It was fairly large, a three-story with its own small courtyard. At some point in the past, someone had taken the wooden doors from the stable in the wing that enclosed part of that courtyard as well as to the main room across from it, not to mention all but the hinges of the gate that gave onto the courtyard itself.

"Used to be an inn – like you said you were looking for," the squat man who represented the municipal council said, squinting up at it. "Pretty solid still, just been empty for years, since my grandfather's day, I think. Lots of rooms."

There was something in his tone that made Ira think there was more that he was saying. Ira glanced at him. "But?"

The council man shrugged, sucking his teeth for a moment, gaze going briefly to Ira. "There's an ugly tale in those walls. Been a long time, so I don't remember all of what went on, but one morning one of the maids came to work and everyone had been murdered in their beds. Some demon got loose or somesuch."

Ira shrugged. "I assume that will commensurately lower the purchase price."

The council man laughed a dry laugh. "Place has been standing here for years without any use. We're a much smaller town now than we were in those days. Even if we tore it down, there's no one who'd want the space, much less foot the bill for building."

"It's worth considering." Ira eyed the structure once more. "How much?"

The price made him understand why Bri was willing to make an offer to buy it once it was back into good repair. Still, Ira supposed it meant they'd have more to allocate towards renovations and furnishings if they settled on it.

There were two more similar buildings, one a long two-story on a sidestreet full of empty houses in various states of disrepair, another a squat, square two-story on a corner, the lower floor evidently having been used to house wagons and carriages when not in use, and an empty warehouse that the owner hadn't even bothered to try to sell before leaving Ortana.

Ira's thoughts kept returning to the big three-story even after they'd parted ways with the council's man. The price really was quite low in light of the size. It had a hot spring dual bath, twenty separate rooms not counting the common room, large kitchen, tap room, and basement, or the storage loft above the empty stables, and the minimal property taxes were simply based on how much land it occupied.

"The cursed three-story," Ira began as their steps turned toward Shelly's Tavern.

"Yes," Panashri said before he'd gotten another word out.

"Creepy, but yeah. It's the one," Miguel agreed.

Ira eyed both of them with an amused smile. "We can at least show it to the others before the deed's signed."

There were a number of groups who'd been preying on the gnolls in the Hills of Bowen, and with a moderate amount of coaxing, they were willing to share details.

There were three large common camps, a smattering of smaller ones around them. There was a perimeter, but it was far from impenetrable. The goblins had a sort of loose military hierarchy based on the strength of individual leaders and their ability to motivate their fellows into cohesive if motley units. The gnolls, on the other hand, were much more tribal, with larger cohesive groups.

Their perimeter existed mostly by virtue of the proximity of individual tribes, and those tribes patrolled their own areas. Their chiefs and elders cooperated, at least mostly, but it was limited. It made them vulnerable to an extent as the goblins had been.

The key of course, was cutting off both communication and retreat for smaller individual groups. By and large the conventional wisdom was that the groups heading for or from the camps made the best targets, though they varied in size and in the contents of the goods they carried – everything from rough-cut lumber to ore to herbs to arrowheads or crude melee weapons and even woven hampers full of grain.

By the time Dietricht arrived to meet him for lunch, Ira's thoughts were already running down tactical possibilities and strategies. To Ira's surprise, Dietricht wasn't alone – Germaine was with him, and the two of them seemed to be getting along quite well – laughing at something as they walked in, expressions relaxed.

Ira stood at the sight of them and ignored the faint flicker of irrational jealousy he felt as he flagged them down. It wasn't as though Dietricht was about to up and leave him for Germaine instead. Even the idea was ridiculous. He raised his hand to wave, and tried not to react as Germaine nudged Dietricht with his elbow and said something and Dietricht responded by clapping Germaine briefly on the shoulder as he replied, both of them grinning. They were just being friendly . . . weren't they?

It helped a little bit that Dietricht's grin turned to a warm smile as he caught Ira's gaze and he didn't even hesitate, shouldering his way through the crowd. Ira was about to say hello when Dietricht picked him up and kissed him thoroughly, and any concerns were driven out of Ira's head along with pretty much everything else except for the heat and flagrant desire that flushed through him with that kiss.

There were a couple of cheers and one or two catcalls, but Ira barely even noticed them. Dietricht set him down, blue eyes alight.

It also didn't hurt when Germaine took his hand, bowing slightly over it, smiling at him as well, and a little to Ira's surprise, while Dietricht glanced at the other man, he didn't object or frown. His look was more . . . measuring.

"Dietricht was helping me get a good deal on armor," Germaine said with a grin.

"I figured I'd invite him to join us for lunch." Dietricht pulled out a chair and stood behind it, tugging on Ira's hand. "I didn't think you'd mind."

Ira sat and let Dietricht help him scoot the chair in, and then both men seated themselves. "Not at all. I learned a lot about the gnolls in the Hills of Bowen today – they even gave me a few combat tips for fighting them. Miguel and Panashri and I think we may have found the appropriate site for our clan hold also, but of course I want to show everyone else the best options we found before we make a final decision."

"This place sounds great," Dietricht said, grinning broadly. "Let's do it."

Ira shot him a wry look. "And if I tell you it's not only supposed to be cursed or haunted or whatever, but that with the purchase price plus renovations it'll take pretty much all of our gold and more than half of our silver?"

Dietricht's eyebrows rose slightly, eyes widening, but though his smile lessened, it didn't go away entirely. "Well, we'll make more, won't we? Besides, you said Bri would buy it from us once we're ready to head for greener pastures."

"True." Ira nodded.

Dietricht snorted slightly. "Alright, I'll look at it and _then_ say let's go for it. But I know you well enough to realize it's probably the best deal we're going to get anyway."

"Guess I'd better follow suit." Germaine's tone was amused. "Just let me know when to agree, Ira."

Ira shot him a dryly amused glance, but let it go unchallenged.

All seventeen of them assembled for breakfast the next morning. Because of space constraints they had it in the courtyard despite the cold, the outdoor hearth built to a roaring blaze to keep the chill from being too bitter, and everyone was reasonably attentive as Ira relayed everything he'd been told about the gnolls, even Cassim.

"It'll take us a little longer to get there," Ira added at the end. "But I expect the rewards to be greater. Our first day will mostly just be getting the lay of the land, analyzing their movements and patrol patterns, getting an idea of their favored combat tactics. We're going to play it extremely safe at first. No unnecessary risks. The first few days are going to be the most dangerous, so stay very alert."

The gnolls were larger than Ira had expected – among the goblins the majority of them had been short, some even shorter than Yedani or Xiang-Min. Taller goblins had been rare. The gnolls were exactly the opposite. Tall, rangy and muscular seemed to be the rule, most of them equal in height to Dietricht and Germaine, gray-furred, quick, and startlingly cunning.

They also had keen noses, as Ira learned in their first engagement when the wind caught their scent and carried it to a group of eight of them transporting sacks in a small cart. Muzzles lifted, snuffling, and they let out howls, turning to face the humans lying in wait on their flank.

Gomer rejoined them, now at the same six and a half feet of height as Dietricht, covered in gray fur, with a long narrow muzzle, big, sharp teeth, long black claws, and a long pink tongue. He helped them hide the bodies in a clump of brush, spread powder snow over the bloodstains, and pulled the cart while they covered up the tracks in the snow to put some distance between them and the site of the slaughter.

They built a fire using the gnolls' spears as fuel, and then he and Ira had a long conversation about tactics, patrol routes, social structure, threat response, and of course, the contents of the sacks. The last item turned out be ore from the Cyrene Mines, mostly copper and iron, but with two large chunks of silver and one of what looked like malachite hidden among the rest.

Judging by the pictographs of goblins, the intended destination had been new Damuro, to trade the ore for other goods, some of which would be transported back to the Mines, denoted by a cave mouth with little wolf figures inside.

The cart presented something of a quandary. The ore would undoubtedly fetch a good amount of coin in Ortana if for nothing else besides the quantity, but there wasn't a place readily available to stash it in the immediate area so that they could continue hunting without having to worry that someone or something else might commandeer it. The gnolls _had_ coin, and a good amount of it, but it would be foolhardy to just ignore the wealth they had in goods as well. Some of the other Volunteer Soldiers he'd talked to had only taken the most valuable items and coin and left the rest. Ira wasn't ready to be that wasteful, however.

"So," Ira said, looking around at the others standing or sitting around the fire in the snow. "Any ideas about what to do with the cart until we're ready to go back to Ortana? I don't want to just leave it here." There was a long moment of silence.

"A small group of us could take it back to Ortana," Trent suggested with a shrug. "But I'm not sure how we'd meet up again with the rest of you."

"A Hunter could do it," Kanoha interjected.

"Damuro isn't far – we could stash it on the outskirts and come back for it." Yedani snapped her fingers. "There's that long low building on the southwest side out by itself with all the empty rooms – a kennel I think. We dry-brick a few of them shut to hide what's inside. The goblins there aren't smart enough and are too lazy to look for that kind of thing. The cart can just go some place nearby. We'd have to cover our tracks, but we're in the habit of doing that thing anyway. It'll take some work today, but we'd have it in the future."

"I agree." Ira glanced around. "Any objections?"

It took them a few hours to enact Yedani's plan and drag the cart out into the woods surrounding the old kennel, but it was still less time than it would have taken them to travel all the way back to Ortana.

Another cartload – this time of tanned leather, jars of something that smelled of ammonia or perhaps lye, and a couple of crates of salted pork - joined it before the end of the day, along with four large travel-rucks, two of them full of bundles of herbs and clay jugs full of powders, one full of large cubes of salt wrapped in oil-cloth, and the last was a smorgasbord of leather pouches full of spices, a couple of carefully wrapped clay jugs of oil, furs, and, to their delight, two crude bars of silver and a bar of gold.

Another two days continued to see the old kennel fill up further. Rather than brick off _all_ the rooms, which would look suspicious, Ira thought they might just have to brick off only every room and hide the rest of their plunder down the dry, rock-filled well outside if it came to it.

The high-value items like the spices, salt, bars of precious metals, and the few gems they came across they didn't leave, but took with them to sell immediately in Ortana on their return.

That third night as they returned, however, Ira wasn't thinking about selling material goods. He was thinking about the bath – just him and Dietricht, alone. Dietricht's hand had hardly left his hip all day. His arm was around Ira as they walked into town through the forest gate, warm and tender as he held him close.

It became almost a delightful sort of torture, sitting across from Dietricht at dinner, seeing the gleam in his beautiful blue eyes, knowing that in a few more hours they'd finally fully come together. When they got back to their quarters, Dietricht picked him up, carried him across the threshold, spun him around, and kissed him deeply before setting him back on his own feet.

The women washed and bathed, and Ira put on hot water for tea. He was hardly aware of anyone else except Dietricht in spite of the fact that they were all around him. Dietricht remained in close proximity, pressing little kisses to his neck, to his lips, to the outer curve of his ear, and when it was finally the mens' turn to use the bath, Ira felt his heart skip a beat.

He walked in, started to remove his clothes, only to have Dietricht capture his hands, kiss his palms, and draw them down.

"Let me," he murmured in Ira's ear, voice husky.

Dietricht took his time with each article of clothing, kissing the skin he bared, starting with Ira's shirt, mouth moving up Ira's belly and chest, following the rising hem, to his neck, to his lips, and Ira ran his hands over Dietricht's hair, over his broad shoulders, caressed the back of his neck.

Ira's trousers were next, Dietricht pressing more kisses to his thighs, to his calves, mouth settling hot and wet at Ira's right hip, sucking between his teeth, marking his territory. He didn't wait for Ira to take his clothes off, stripping them off quickly, though Ira did his best to help.

He took his time soaping up Ira's body, running his big, callused hands slowly over every last inch of Ira's skin, fingers giving extra attention to Ira's sphincter. Then it was Ira's turn and he returned the favor, laving Dietricht's muscled body with his tongue before following it with soap. They even took their time rinsing each other off, and even having just seen it, just rubbed his hands over every last bit of it, Ira couldn't help but be mesmerized by Dietricht's big, muscular body and long, thick penis as the lather washed away.

Then Dietricht picked him up in his arms, carried him to the bath itself, and sat, setting Ira between his legs, fingertips trailing gently over his body, pressing featherlight kisses to his neck and shoulders.

Time seemed to flow around them rather than carrying them with it, everything slowing down for them. Ira was half aware of the other men getting up. Mikhev paused long enough to say something, clapping Dietricht on the shoulder before he got out. Ira heard the door to the bath close, and then Dietricht's fingers were gentle on his chin, turning his head and tilting it back, and then his mouth was on Ira's, kiss fiercely passionate, tongue sweeping in.

He scooped Ira up, turned, and laid him on a towel at the water's edge, levering himself on top of Ira, the steam from the water rolling around their bodies, the air warm, hands gripping behind Ira's knees, lifting and parting them. Dietricht continued to occupy Ira's mouth with his own, and Ira heard the cork pop from the mouth of a jug. Then Dietricht's fingers were between his legs, slick with oil as they massaged his sphincter. One finger slid in, spreading more oil inside of him, and then two, leaving him briefly before returning with fresh oil, working their way deeper within him.

They found that little nub within Ira's body that magnified the heat already welling up within him into a blissful, overwhelming inferno. Ira's breath was coming fast, heart pounding, and then he arched as Dietricht added a third finger, widening his passage further, stretching him, and he was panting into Dietricht's mouth, hands sliding over Dietricht's wet, hard, almost feverishly warm body.

Dietricht finally released his mouth, settling back onto his heels, and Ira looked up to see him drizzling oil from the jug in his hand over the broad shaft of his massive manhood. He grabbed Ira's hand, kissed it, and tucked two of Ira's fingers into his own rectum, then put his fingers at the base of Ira's spine and lifted.

"Hold yourself open for just a minute," he instructed, the jug in his other hand, and when Ira did as he was bid, Dietricht poured more oil directly into Ira's open orifice. He set the jug down, put the stopper back in, and with one hand, lined up his cock with Ira's loosened sphincter, the other cradling the back of Ira's neck and the base of his head as he lowered himself over Ira once more, reclaiming possession of Ira's mouth with his own.

Ira could feel him push, the fat, slick, silken head of Dietricht's huge penis applying pressure, and tried to relax as it slowly pressed inward, stretching Ira's rectum around its considerable girth, widening him further. Ira moaned into Dietricht's mouth, panted as the pressure grew along with the discomfort, knowing it was temporary, that he was on the verge of sheer ecstasy and he just had to hold out and surrender to Dietricht. Part of what made it all so intoxicating was that surrender itself. He _wanted_ Dietricht to be dominant, to take him, to be in control.

The big corona of Dietricht's cock slowly slid in deeper, farther, and Ira cried out as it continued to widen him. Then suddenly he felt it, felt the ridge of the mushroom head passing through his entrance. Dietricht halted for a moment, kissing Ira's neck, his ears, giving him a moment to breathe. Then he claimed Ira's mouth with his own once more, and resumed pushing in.

Ira couldn't have said how long it took Dietricht to finally penetrate him fully, hips flush against Ira's buttocks, after countless little stops and whispered encouragements and praise. He lay on the towel in the steamy air, gasping and trembling, toes curling, back arched, utterly overcome by the depth of sensation that was flooding his body.

Dietricht pulled almost all the way out, started all over again, and Ira thought he might well lose his mind before all was said and done. Little by little, Dietricht started to pick up the pace, and Ira's pain was quickly dissolving beneath the rising waves of pleasure crashing higher and higher within him.

Dietricht began to move in him in earnest, and Ira held him close, tongue dancing with Dietricht's, at the center of a storm of pleasure that threatened to pull him under. Suddenly Dietricht was lifting him, arms wrapped around him, standing upright. Ira wrapped his arms around Dietricht's shoulders, wrapped his legs around Dietricht's waist, and clung to him as Dietricht fucked him unsupported, thrusting up into his body at a quick, steady pace.

Ira let his head fall back, gasping for air, felt Dietricht's mouth hot and wet on his throat, teeth grazing his skin.

"Give me back that mouth, babe!" Dietricht growled, lifting his head, blue eyes flashing.

Ira kissed him again, their mouths coming back together, Dietricht's tongue twining with his. Ira could feel it rising within him, the intensity of the sensations rampaging through his body surging higher, coming close, so close, to consuming him.

He wanted it to, wanted to be spun apart by the relentless force of the storm that was Dietricht, wanted it to wash over him and crash down.

As if he sensed it coming, Dietricht thrust harder up into Ira, chest heaving, breath rasping through his nostrils and his lungs, not giving up possession of Ira's mouth for even a moment, as if he somehow understood that it was what Ira needed, the complete surrender of control and volition handed over into Dietricht's keeping.

Ira felt it wash over him with unstoppable power, felt sexual completion howl through him like a hurricane wind, like a tidal wave, and sweep him away.

Somewhere in a distant part of his mind he was aware of Dietricht climaxing inside him, wet warmth erupting from the head of the penis buried inside of him into the depths of his body.

Ira came back to himself as Dietricht laid him once more on the towel but didn't pull out of him, kiss becoming gentle again, lips against lips as he braced himself with his elbows and lifted his head slightly. He drew in a long, shaking breath, letting it out in a rush.

Ira smiled dreamily up at him, truthfully a little dazed by the force that had rocked him.

Dietricht smiled, a slow, sexy, satisfied smile and drew in a deep breath, steadier this time.

"That was absolutely amazing," Ira said quietly, meaning every word of it.

"Yeah." Dietricht cocked his head slightly, smile tugging up at one corner. "You're even more beautiful in afterglow."

"Mmm." Ira pressed a slow, soft kiss to Dietricht's mouth. "You're a sexual force of nature, you know that? Wild and magnificent. Kind of awe-inspiring actually."

"Yeah?" Dietricht kissed him back, kiss a little heavier. "That's me. Here to rock your world."

"I hope you'll do it again soon," Ira murmured, pressing his hand to Dietricht's chest over his heart, feeling it pound beneath his palm.

Dietricht chuckled at that. "You don't think that was all, do you? You're going to get that wish tonight. It took us too damn long to get here, and I'm good to go for miles yet."

Ira blinked. "Are you . . .?"

Dietricht's smile turned lascivious and a little smug, and he lightly swatted Ira's bottom. "Getting hard again from being all the way inside you? Yup. That's what you do to me." He chuckled. "Now let's get back to what I'm doing to you."

Apparently having satisfied himself with just the one display of raw strength, Dietricht let Ira remain on his back through the second round. He started with switching up the pace a little bit, first with a steady rhythm, not too fast or too slow, but more than enough to rouse Ira's senses from their languor. Then he picked up the speed a little bit, gradually increasing it until the sound of his balls slapping on Ira's buttocks almost sounded like applause before slowing down again, changing to slower thrusts with more force behind them.

Ira's body couldn't quite figure out what was going on with the change in intervals between the shocks of pleasure it was sustaining. He couldn't even think through it, the only constant Dietricht's mouth on his, Dietricht's massive manhood within him. When Dietricht shifted into high speed again, Ira could only ride out the bursts of euphoric sensation that rushed through him like lightning. Dietricht changed up the pace again, moving back to the steady, moderate thrusts, back to the slower, harder thrusts, and then back to the faster pace again, only harder than before, and this time Ira barely sensed it before it happened again, climax thundering through him, catching him completely off-guard and leaving him gasping and all but senseless.

After that Ira simply lost track of how many times and in how many positions he climaxed – on his hands and knees with Dietricht plowing into him from behind, on his side with an ankle over Dietricht's shoulder, straddling Dietricht's powerful thighs both facing him, chests pressed together, and with Dietricht's broad, powerful, hairy chest pressed against his back, flat on his belly with Dietricht on top of him. He only knew that at some point he was dry and Dietricht was getting into bed next to him, and then consciousness fled.

He was surprised he wasn't incredibly sore the next morning as he made his way downstairs, but all he felt was incredibly relaxed, joints almost sort of loose. In fact, he couldn't recall ever feeling so pleasantly relaxed in his entire life. He yawned slightly as he ambled into the kitchen, smiling as he met Panashri's gaze.

Panashri smiled back, eyes widening slightly, and Yedani turned and blinked, lips parting slightly before they shaped a smile as well, an expression that was almost somehow rueful on her face as she turned back to helping Panashri with breakfast. Soong took one look at him, stood up from where she was sitting at the table, took him by the hand, and sat him down, looking into his eyes.

"What?" he asked mildly.

"He still hasn't come all the way down yet," Soong said, turning her head slightly sideways. "It's a little scary how much he's glowing."

"Almost shining," Panashri said dryly.

Ira rolled his eyes. "Oh sure, because it's not like you three were doing the exact same thing." He didn't bother to hide the amusement in his voice.

"That's exactly what Kanoha and I were doing," Soong said with a half-shrug. "But he was done after the third time."

"Mikhev was the same," Panashri added.

Ira blinked. His gaze went to Yedani.

She blushed slightly, and then gave an awkward sort of semi-shrug. "It was only twice. I don't think he had much experience, but he . . . he satisfied me."

"So . . ." Ira could feel heat creeping into his cheeks. "How do you know Dietricht and I . . . how do you know it wasn't just . . . once?"

"Well, it's not as though you were making a lot of noise," Soong said. "It was pretty well muffled actually. Dietricht was very discreet this morning too. He only asked Miguel to heal you while you were sleeping and Miguel said that was it."

"Muffled as in . . . you could still hear it." Ira's tone dried up.

"Well, we were a little curious." Panashri cleared her throat. "And in the second floor closet – it's not a vent exactly – more like a crack for a draft, but . . ."

Ira closed his eyes and rested his forehead in his hand, elbow braced on the table.

"He was, as you said, like a force of nature," Soong said baldly.

"Ira, do you want some of this tea?" Yedani asked.

Ira sighed. "Sure."

"Good morning, beautiful." Dietricht's husky tone, his voice deep – they brought the previous night rushing back so hard that a warm tingle rushed up Ira's spine, heart beating faster just from the memory, and he opened his eyes.

Dietricht was smiling that same, sexy, satisfied smile, and Ira felt his breath leave him, unable to look anywhere but at Dietricht.

"Good morning." He couldn't help the softness in his own voice.

If Dietricht was tired at all from the previous night's exertions it didn't show as he walked up to Ira, admittedly with a certain swagger in his step, bent down, and kissed him.

"Mmm." He pulled back, and Ira was able to open his eyes again, a little of that storm-tossed feeling coming back.

Panashri was mouthing something at Soong behind Dietricht's back. It looked a lot like _he's not even tired._

There was a general consensus once everyone arrived that they'd take the next following day off, both to bring back and sell what they hadn't been able to so far and also for more gear outfitting, particularly for Germaine's team. Their gear was at least adequate now, not to mention flat out warmer, but they were a ways from being caught up to the other eleven members. Ira also wanted to have everyone at least get a look at the three-story inside and out before he started the paperwork and coin changed hands, not to mention have time to look at some of the other places in case anyone had a vociferous objection.

Things started off well enough – they actually managed to ambush a crude, four-wheeled wagon late in the morning, pulled by an ox. It wasn't especially heavily laden, but Ira was happily thinking of how it'd make a splendid transport for their loot rather than having to rent horses and a wagon in Ortana as he helped Miguel drag a gnoll corpse towards the shallow hole they'd dug for the purpose.

That lasted right up until there were howls, a _lot_ of howls, from back over the ridge they'd crossed to intercept the wagon and its dozen now-deceased drovers and guards.

Gomer whimpered.

It was the noses again, Ira realized. The gnolls had clearly caught their scent, tracked them this far, and realized they were close. Frankly it was fortunate that they _were_ unsophisticated enough to howl when they drew near to their prey. It would have been far, far worse if they'd just come over the ridge in silence.

"Everyone on the back left corner of the wagon," Ira called out, dropping the gnoll corpse and moving to obey his own orders. "Gomer! Keep the ox calm! Trent – if it looks like there are more than thirty, then spread a wall of fire as big as you can to give us space to run." He snatched up an iron-bladed hand axe one of the gnoll guards had dropped when an arrow drove through its eye-socket into its skull and a mace fallen from the grip of another beheaded by Oboro's sword.

Spirit Wielder had become one of the first spells he cast in combat since the day he'd acquired it before they came to the Hills of Bowen. It gave a weapon a sort of temporary life, allowing it to move on its own. It was like having an extra skirmisher on their side, or in this case two, without having to worry about them being killed or dismembered.

" _Tools of war_ , _breathe of the memory of battle,"_ he intoned. " _Take its life unto you and rise in service to your purpose. Awaken and fight._ "

They tugged at his hands, and Ira released them. Tamiya was the farthest away from them – she'd been closest to the shallow grave and the pile of gnoll corpses. Ira turned from watching the ridge to check on her, and his eyes widened as he spotted gray-furred figures in the stand of trees that lay beyond.

"They're coming from the left too!" Soong shouted before he got the words out.

"Dietricht! Mikhev! Wall on the right!" Ira hollered instead. "Trent! Kanoha! Miguel! Support! Everyone else, hammer on the left! Germaine, cover Panashri! Everyone cover Tamiya!"

The gnolls came loping over the ridge, several standing at the crest and aiming with bows. One of them got to experience Martine's second skill – Force Throw – which sent it flying back over the ridge.

"Tamiya!" Ira roared. "Duck and roll!"

Ira sent his disembodied weapons towards the gnolls as taut bowstrings released, and while Tamiya didn't so much duck as half-fell into a half-roll, half-skid that brought her tumbling down the slight slope, she came out of it with only a single broken-off arrow sticking out of her calf, most having gone over her head. Oboro was there a heartbeat later, pulling her to her feet, arm around her as she dragged her back toward the wagon.

Panashri finished her spell and the snow humped up, a white maw gaping wide in its face as an elemental imbued it with brief life, and came crashing down on the gnoll flank like a small avalanche, burying six out of the twenty-odd gnolls beneath it. Ira took a moment to conjure flame spears and send them flying at the gnolls as well, and he turned to see how Dietricht and the rest were doing.

Dietricht was in the forefront, massive shield providing cover for the others as more gnolls with bows drew slowly closer, padding carefully around the wall of flame that was sending steam high into the air. Kanoha was picking them off with his longer bow as they came in range, every arrow striking true. They would have to charge soon or withdraw.

On the left, Uktemmbo was charging up the slope with Oboro right on his heels, and to Ira's surprise, Xiang-Min as well, tambourine banging, her voice raised. It took Ira a moment to realize their feet weren't sinking much into the snow, movements easy, almost as if they were running on even, solid ground. Cassim was kneeling in the snow, sending arrows winging ahead of them.

Uktemmbo and Oboro hit the gnolls and Yedani appeared on their flank, rising up like an apparition, long dagger plunging into the ribs of a gnoll bowman. The fight there would end quickly.

Ira rounded the wagon at a walk, patting Gomer between the ears where he crouched next to the quivering ox, and conjured more flame spears. Three of the half-dozen gnolls who'd been coming around the other end of Trent's wall of flame went down thanks to exhaustive practice.

One of the three remaining let out a strange call – a series of yips and howls.

A dozen more gnolls leapt _through_ Trent's wall of flame, rolling in the snow to extinguish their smoldering fur.

"Ira!"

Ira could hear Dietricht yelling at him, started moving sideways towards him, trying to concentrate on his next spell at the same time.

" _IRA!"_

Sheets of light danced in a rune between them and the gnolls. Ira saw them lift bows, saw one take an arrow in the throat. He was almost yanked off his feet by an armored arm and all but crushed to the ground as an armored body bent over him. He turned his head and got a glimpse of Mikhev's latticed visor out of the corner of his eye. Arrows clattered and rang off of his armor.

"Everyone close your eyes!" Ira hollered as loudly as he could.

" _Messenger of heaven, drink deep of this cup. Find form and expression in this pure offering. Sing the primordial song of the beginning, of the power descended from the skies to awaken the earth and the waters. Speak the word that joined heaven and earth and birthed life._ "

It had been a little while since he'd used this spell, Ira found himself thinking, exhilaration rising in him with the rush of power. Not since Damuro, in fact. He felt it, almost _heard_ it, the snap of that point of light, turned his head to see her manifest before he squeezed his eyes shut. A moment later he was rewarded with the bright flash that seared his sight even behind his closed eyelids and the way the earth vibrated beneath him.

By the time the battle ended, aside from a few only moderately serious cuts that Uktemmbo had sustained and the arrow in Tamiya's calf, there hadn't been any injuries and they'd managed to overcome more than thirty gnolls in an ambush thanks to magical and ranged superiority.

Dietricht was ominously quiet though, and he refused to let Ira leave his side until they'd gotten to the kennel. The moment they arrived he wrapped an arm around Ira, picked him up, and carried him around the side of the old building, flipping up his visor. He wasn't smiling. His blue eyes were stormy, but not with passion.

"No unnecessary risks." he said curtly. "That was the rule, right?"

Ira grimaced. "I should have come around the wagon the other way."

"No. Stayed on the other side of it. Or even better, gotten under it with Tamiya." Dietricht's tone didn't lighten. " _Damnit_ Ira! You almost got yourself killed after telling us not to get killed ourselves!" He turned away with a growl, throwing his hands up in the air, and then turned back. "I just want to shake you, only I couldn't live with myself if I hurt you! The thought of _anyone_ or _anything_ hurting you – do you understand how that makes me _feel?!_ If Mikhev hadn't been there to cover you, you'd have been-" Dietricht shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He drew in a deep breath, let it out, and looked at Ira. "We can't lose you. _I_ can't lose you."

"I'm sorry," Ira said quietly.

Dietricht hung his head, putting his palm to his forehead. "Just – please, be careful."


	6. Chapter 6: Schoolyard & Home

**Author's Notes:** **The first step to fixing a problem is admitting you have one . . . hopefully?**

 **On a slightly more semi-serious note – these are the completed chapters I've written so far. We'll see if any more write themselves. No promises.**

* * *

Chapter 6

Old Lessons, New Schoolyard

Building Home

The ox and wagon turned out to be quite useful in conveying their plunder back to Ortana the following day. In fact they ended up making multiple trips, leaving Kanoha and Panashri to begin working on sales – surprisingly, the two of them were the best hagglers of the group – along with Mikhev to help with any heavy lifting.

The gnolls' penchant for tracking by scent was worrisome. Ira was reasonably certain that scent was _exactly_ how that combat unit had found them. There was no question they'd been deliberately on the hunt either – no trade goods among them, all armed, and they'd tried to use a pincer tactic.

He didn't want to say anything to the others, but if the gnolls _hadn't_ been so cautious, if they'd charged instead of trying to attack at range – they might well have succeeded in overwhelming his team.

It was a sobering thought.

If there was any way to lower the probability of encountering a more seasoned leader that _would_ decisively use the advantage of numbers, Ira wanted it. Hiding their tracks by itself just wasn't going to keep them from being discovered as it had with the goblins. If only they had a way to hide their smell.

Dietricht had continued to stick right by Ira, and for that matter so had Germaine. It had gotten quite a number of long looks from everyone else. Ira bore it silently. He understood why Dietricht was angry, even appreciated it to an extent. It was hard to say if Germaine was a little angry himself, but he was clearly at least somewhat concerned.

They'd had to adjust their schedule to accommodate the transport of goods back to Ortana taking all morning, pushing the tour of the three-story inn back to after lunch.

"I think the fact that it's supposed to be haunted makes it even better," Xiang-Min opined as she glanced around the interior of what had formerly been the common room.

"I already told Ira it's perfect." Dietricht shrugged.

"I'm going to go ahead and guess this is the part where I agree with Ira too," Germaine added, grinning at Ira, hand coming to rest lightly on his shoulder and squeezing briefly.

Tamiya's head was resting on Oboro's shoulder, Oboro's arm around her, a lamp in her other hand. The two of them hadn't said anything, but they both looked . . . content, Ira realized after a moment.

"It's going to be hell to clean up," Trent said, arms folded.

Luisa shook her head. "There's no real sense in worrying about that until the renovations are done. I imagine we can hire some of the townsfolk to clean it up after that, at least the heavy-duty parts anyway."

"How long will that take?" Soong asked, glancing at Ira.

"If we settle on this one, the estimate was a little shy of a month, assuming there's nothing major that has to be torn out and replaced." Ira pulled out the piece of parchment he'd made notes on. "Parts of the roofing are going to need repairing, reinforcement, and replacement. Fortunately there hasn't been a _lot_ of water damage, but at least one of the third floor rooms is going to need to be refloored completely. There are some splintered door frames and warped doors on the second and third floors both, and the doors down here and in the stables will need to be replaced. The courtyard gate needs to be replaced as well, and is going to take at least a week to get once the order's placed, probably closer to a week and a half. All the lamps as well as the stoves in the rooms were scavenged years ago, so those will need replacing, which will take a month or more before they're all done, and the chimneys will need to be cleaned. The baths are hot-spring fed, but still also need cleaning. The cistern-"

"I apologize for interrupting," Martine cut in "But what is a cistern?"

"Basically a great big water-collection system that feeds into a massive stone container under the roof." Ira glanced up at the ceiling. "Apparently it provides running water, so if everything still works correctly, the accommodations will actually flush and there will be running water from the faucets to wash with. The pipes are copper, so at least they shouldn't have corroded. Half the gutters that feed the cistern need to be cleared out though, as well as the cistern itself."

"Miguel and I have already settled on this place." Panashri pointed her finger at the floor.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, I'm sold on it."

"There are a couple of other places," Ira continued. "The carriage house is in better condition but has fewer rooms and they're all on the second floor – the first floor is just open space and an office. It's also not set up for bathing or any kind of water – all of which would have to come from the well two blocks away. There's also a run-down inn on the east edge of town, but it's in far worse condition, so the repairs would be a lot more extensive. It would be slightly less expensive overall, but have less room and take longer to refurbish-"

"Ira." Mikhev's tone was dryly amused. "You can stop trying. I think we're all agreed that this is it."

"What he said," Uktemmbo added, pointing at Mikhev and smiling slightly.

Even Cassim looked mildly enthused.

Ira nodded crisply. "I'm glad that's settled. I'll get the deed signed over to us and get the paperwork started. If anyone would like to come with me, they're more than welcome to."

No one volunteered.

Ira managed to keep from rolling his eyes, but it took effort.

As it turned out, word was pretty much out around Ortana already. The council's man had the papers ready and waiting to be signed when Ira arrived. He collected the fees, sealed the documents with the seal and the blue ribbon of the town and the red magistrate's seal and red ribbon on behalf of the crown, and shook hands with Ira.

The carpenter and his apprentices had already had another look around the old inn following the estimate. They collected their downpayment and assured him they'd start the very next morning. The only ones not equally ready to begin work immediately were the blacksmith and, strangely, the chimney-sweep. Ira supposed it made a sort of sense that neither would be suffering from any shortage of work, the former because of the constant presence of adventurers, the latter because chimneys were in use all winter long. Still, he had an assurance from each that work would begin within a week.

"I'm told you bought the Mastiff's Prowl on Gray Street," Ira's guildmaster said as Ira walked in, usual smile widening slightly. "Those gnolls have been good to you."

"Not on purpose," Ira replied dryly. "I need to do something about their sharp noses. The only thing I can think of though is a spy – and I can't count on a spy unless I can make the Charm on them permanent. I may not be able to stop their noses, but if I can get a head start on their war parties I can at least make do."

For the first time, his guildmaster's smile actually went away. The green eyes sharpened, studying Ira intently. "You want to create a Thrall, then. That's a piece of magic and a half right there. You'd have to combine a few different enchantments for that."

Ira stepped closer, letting go of any pretense of casualness. "I need it. I have to keep my people safe. Teach me."

The brown eyebrows rose. The guildmaster's lips pursed. "There's a way, but it's expensive, and the price is more than just the gold you'll pay here. A little of your blood and a weight on your conscience each time." He cocked his head slightly. "If it's the noses your worried about – a brownie will be able to hide your scent, and the learning's a pittance of coin."

"What about for seventeen people? Maybe more eventually?" Ira asked blandly. "And how's a housekeeping spirit going to hide my scent?"

The guildmaster snorted. "Two brownies then. And brownies aren't just housekeepers, though that's the virtue most see them for – they're pastoral spirits, creatures of the earth and the fields and the hearth. They may not be much good in a fight, but masking a scent on the wind, helping you hide in the brush, leading your enemies astray or keeping a lookout for them and seeing them before they see you? That's child's play for their kind. Being a sorcerer isn't just about force, Ira – though that's the magic _you_ tend to choose. Our magic is channeled through spirits – spirits that draw from your feelings and emotions, and that's how you give them power, remember?" He sat back in his chair. "You've gotten just a little bit arrogant with your successes. No mistake, your accomplishments are impressive, but you need to keep your head level."

Ira blinked, brow furrowing, because he realized abruptly that the guildmaster was actually pretty spot on with his analysis, surprisingly so. For one thing he'd almost gotten himself killed just a day ago. He'd carried on as though he was invincible because he'd already assumed he'd gained control of the situation. Looking back, he started to see the blind spots in his decision-making. It was actually a startling realization.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I . . . needed to be reminded of that."

The guildmaster actually looked slightly surprised at that admission, eyebrows rising. He cleared his throat. "Yes, well. You're welcome. You're actually one of the most promising students I've had." He stood. "So what'll it be? You want your spells to create a Thrall, or am I going to teach you to invoke brownies?"

"I want both," Ira said plainly, meaning it. "I want every tool I can use to win and keep my people alive and whole."

The guildmaster looked taken aback, but didn't argue.

"We have a slight problem," Ira said at dinner that night. They were sitting in the common room of the inn on the floor. Silence fell over the room, the fireplace roaring with fire, built high to beat back the cold, flames crackling loudly. All eyes went to him in the dimness.

"How slight?" Dietricht asked, voice just a little tense.

"I need four days to learn a series of enchantments. This series of enchantments will allow me to create a Thrall, which is basically a permanent Charm spell. It means I'll be able to have gnolls in the camps that will be able to gather information, help us figure out the best targets and places to strike, and warn us when they're organizing counterattacks like we faced yesterday." Ira picked up his mug. "I've already set aside my portion of the coin we'll need to complete the renovations on our new home, which by the way, was apparently known as the Mastiff's Prowl back when it was still open. At any rate, the enchantments I need to learn will cost me pretty much all the rest of my coin. All but a silver in fact." He glanced around. "So – I won't be able to go to Shelly's for meals since I still need to pay my part of the rent coming up. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your ears open for anything important I should know while you're there."

Dietricht sighed and pulled Ira close, smiling down at him. "Don't worry about it, babe. I've got you covered."

Ira smiled up at him. "Thanks." He glanced around. "Another item: I know I've been a little bit arrogant lately. Especially yesterday. I apologize to everyone for not making the wise decisions I keep harping on all of you to make yourselves."

"I just thought of it as . . . supreme confidence," Mikhev said helpfully. "And I was there, so no harm, no foul."

"Technically you _should_ be with Martine, Trent, and Panashri," Luisa interjected. She winked. "Where I can keep an eye on you."

"I can't really fault you," Yedani added with a shrug. "I've done worse."

Germaine reached over and nudged Ira. "Hey, as long as you don't do it again, I'm fine."

"It's good that you've finally found some humility," Cassim said calmly, eliciting a surprised look from Ira. Meanwhile Oboro and Luisa didn't look surprised – more irritated judging by the looks they shot him, but they let the comment go, and Ira opted to do the same.

"Also, starting tonight we'll have brownies doing some of the housekeeping – cleaning the dishes, doing the sweeping, dusting, keeping the house clean, that sort of thing." Ira shrugged. "That's all of my announcements."

"Sounds nice, but what's a brownie?" Tamiya asked.

"Pointy ears, about a foot tall, and they like to dress in grass, clover, and pennywort, evidently." Ira cocked his head. "As spirits of the earth and the fields, they can supposedly help hide us and disguise our scent, so once I'm done with my training, they'll be joining us on our expeditions as well."

Tamiya clapped her hands and smiled. "They're growing on me already."

"You might not want to assume you're broke yet." Panashri's eyebrows lifted. "Kanoha and I still have the bulk of the goods we took from the gnolls to sell. In fact it'll keep us busy for at least the next couple of days, maybe even for the entirety of the time you're training."

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply you wouldn't." Ira shook his head quickly. "I just don't like to budget in unrealized gains. It's one thing to estimate your cash balance and use it for projections, but it's a terrible way to order your financial summary."

"Unrealized . . . what?" Germaine looked mystified.

"I think he means that we shouldn't count the coins before they're in hand," Yedani interjected.

Germaine nodded. "Oh yeah – that makes sense."

Training started early for Ira the next morning. He was up while the sky in the east was still fully dark, making his way through Ortana's streets in the bitter cold, a couple of hard-boiled eggs having served for breakfast. They weren't the tastiest, but they were fast and nutritious.

The guildmaster was waiting for him. "You ready?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Ira said without any hesitation.

When the news came that his boyfriend had come to take him out to lunch, Ira was seized with relief. It had been a long six hours, and there were more to go. He stretched and headed for the front hall, looking for Dietricht.

Germaine was standing alone underneath the portico, grinning. "Hey."

"Hi." Ira tried not to show his surprise. After that first day when Germaine had met Dietricht, he hadn't exactly stopped being warm, but he hadn't exactly shown a lot of interest in continuing his pursuit, either. In fact, the way the two of them got along, Ira had begun to wonder if he should actually start regarding Germaine as competition.

Except that Germaine walked right up to him, put his hands on Ira's hips, leaned down and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

"I thought I'd take you out for lunch," Germaine said softly. "We haven't actually had much time for just the two of us."

"No, I've been spending it with Dietricht." Ira wavered, not certain if Germaine was playing both sides or just being discreet. "But then, you've been spending a lot of time with him too."

"Yeah." Germaine's grin turned rueful. "It's complicated. Come on, let's walk. I know I have to bring you back, and I want to get some real food in you – I know you've got to be hungry."

Ira nodded.

"So, you and Dietricht," Ira prompted after they were a good ways down the street from the Sorcerers' Guild Hall.

"Yeah. Like I said, it's complicated." Germaine shrugged. "I mean – he's like my brother. We get along great, like a lot of the same things . . . one thing, or rather, person in particular." He wrapped an arm around Ira. "Honestly, it made me feel a little conflicted, because I really do like the guy. He's already like my best friend. Hell, I think he might be. I get along with him better than anyone." He looked down at Ira. "But I want you, and I know you want me back."

Ira waited, partly because he wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure which direction to turn, because he couldn't outright _deny_ it, but also partly because he wanted to see where Germaine was headed with this line of discussion.

"I know you can't really help yourself – you want Dietricht and you want me." Germaine shrugged. "Nature of the beast. The thing is, as similar as we are, I have a pretty good idea of how he'd feel if he lost you. I know how _I'd_ feel if I lost you. And I'm not just talking about being bone-headed the day before yesterday. Thing is – I think he knows how I feel too. God knows we talk about you." Germaine paused, looking around the street. "I'm not going to say I'd be totally happy with the idea of sharing you, but before I can even think about that – I need to know if you'd be willing to take both of us."

Germaine stopped, looking down at Ira once more, hands coming up to close on Ira's shoulders. "So, can you handle that? Because I . . . I don't want to have to fight him over you, but if that's what you want-"

"If that's what you want, then we will," Dietricht finished, rounding the corner.

Ira let out a long, slow sigh, closing his eyes and reaching up to massage his temples. "You guys couldn't wait until after I finished my training? Do you realize I'm going to be thinking about this for days, now?"

"Sorry, babe," Dietricht said quietly, taking one of Ira's hands and pressing a kiss to the back of it, other hand going to the small of Ira's back. "But we came to a realization. We don't want to waste any time with this, because we don't know how much we'll get even if we're careful."

"And of course you come to this realization after I start taking steps to reduce the risk factor." Ira shook his head. He opened his eyes and looked up at them. "Here's the thing. It's not up to me. Hell, I couldn't even stop Mikhev when it came down to it, and I didn't go looking for that anymore than I went looking for you guys. So putting this on me is completely the wrong idea. If anything, the responsibility should be on the two of _you_."

Dietricht blinked, and then frowned.

Germaine's expression was mildly incredulous. "Wait – so _Mikhev-_ "

"Yes," Dietricht said dourly. "I remember that." He sighed, reaching up to run a hand over his dark red hair. He glanced at Germaine. "Well, it's _kind_ of the compromise we were looking for, when you think about it."

Germaine looked at him, and then back at Ira. "So that's it – you just can't say no?"

Ira rolled his eyes, but he was blushing. "Not exactly – I mean, kind of yes, but – there has to at least be some sort of attraction there. I don't think I'd have a problem telling the girls no. Probably."

"Probably." Germaine scratched his beard. "Probably," he repeated again, shaking his head slightly.

"Hey, I admit I have a problem," Ira said defensively, blushing furiously now. "Well now it's _your_ problem." He gestured at them. "Both of you."

"Again, kind of the answer we were looking for." Dietricht shrugged. "I mean, if you can't, then-"

"No." Germaine shook his head. "No, I'm in all the way." He abruptly grinned at Ira. "As often as I can get in all the way."

Ira rolled his eyes again. "Good. Fine. So it's settled. You guys are in charge of my ass. Can we go eat now? I'm starving."

Dietricht laughed out loud, attracting a number of curious looks from the passersby.

By the time he was finished with his training, Ira was bone-tired, almost numb. After their first awkward lunch with all three of them together, Dietricht and Germaine had taken turns taking him to lunch.

On the last day, Germaine was waiting to walk him home, and Ira was too tired to feel more than a few sparks when Germaine kissed him. It was well after dark, maybe a pair of hours shy of midnight. Ira just wanted to climb into bed and sleep. He was utterly exhausted, and at one point he actually nearly fell asleep in mid-step, Germaine catching him before he could actually drop to the cold ground.

He picked Ira up after that, and as much as Ira struggled to, it was impossible to keep his eyes open, head cradled against Germaine's chest.

When he woke he was tucked into bed, head resting on Dietricht's broad, bare chest. Dim light shone through the little cracks in the wooden window cover, so the sun was already well up.

"Good morning," Dietricht said, a big hand squeezing Ira's buttocks under the blanket.

"Good morning," Ira replied, snuggling against him and closing his eyes again.

"Everyone decided to take another day," Dietricht's other hand stroked Ira's hair and glided down between his shoulder blades. "Kanoha and Panashri said they'd be able to wrap up the last of the sales by this afternoon. I've been holding onto your share of the cash."

"Thank you." Ira yawned.

"It felt a little strange after seeing you every day, suddenly being apart from you for so long." Dietricht kissed Ira's forehead.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, it was anything but a vacation for me." Ira lifted his head, kissing Dietricht lightly on the lips. "I missed you too. But it was worth it."

"Yeah? Now you can build your army of secret agents?" Dietricht smile, expression amused.

"An army would take a very long time," Ira replied, shaking his head. "It's not as thought the mechanisms of the enchantments are particularly difficult, but they do require a little time. They also require just a little bit of my blood."

"Wait – what?" Dietricht's smile vanished. "How much is a little bit?"

"Just enough to count," Ira said, shrugging. "A dab here, a dab there – it's enough to take a little of the shine off the benefits, but the information is worth a tiny bit of pain. It's not much compared to what you do, so I can hardly complain."

Dietricht sighed. "I wish . . . I wish I could justify telling you not to do it."

"It's the thought that counts." Ira smiled and kissed Dietricht again.

The coin from the sale was actually greater than Ira had expected, and Kanoha and Panashri did indeed manage to have the last sales concluded and payment in hand by lunch time. Even considering the amount of time lost, by Ira's calculations they still made out exponentially better than they would have spending the same number of days in Damuro without taking a day off.

"The most time-consuming part was finding buyers that dealt in those kinds of goods in that kind of bulk and would actually pay a fair amount," Panashri said as they were sitting in the kitchen that afternoon, drinking hot tea. "It should be a lot faster and easier next time now that we have contacts established and we know who's going to get us the best deal."

"That's excellent news." Ira smiled. "Thank you for all the hard work."

"Truthfully, it's rather enjoyable." Kanoha shrugged, smiling slightly.

"Would you perhaps like to take one more day to rest?" Panashri cocked her head. "You were clearly at the limit of your endurance last night, and you still look rather tired."

Ira shook his head. "Another good eight hours of sleep and I'll be just fine, especially after taking it easy all day today. "Has anyone been to check on how things are progressing with our new quarters?"

"The carpenter is quite skilled if I am any judge, and apparently I am more familiar with the craft than I realized."

Ira blinked as Oboro spoke from where she was seated against the far wall, her arm around Tamiya next to her.

"The tools they used were familiar to me. I think perhaps once I made use of such things myself," she continued. "The carpenter looked surprised when I pointed out that one of his apprentices was taking a shortcut, and remonstrated with him."

"That's also excellent news," Ira said, meaning it. "The quality of the work was one of my concerns. I'd planned to look over their work after it was completed, but it would be nice to be able to keep them honest during the work itself instead of having to have them come back and fix something we didn't know was wrong until later when it became apparent."

"I am pleased that I will be able to assist." Oboro actually smiled. "It will be no chore to look over their work in the evenings. Truthfully there is something comforting about it."

"I don't know how comfortable I am with a girlfriend that works wood." Tamiya's tone was teasing, eyes twinkling. She gave Oboro a quick peck on the cheek. "Just kidding, love."

Oboro gave her a perfectly level look for a long moment, and then her facade cracked and she grinned and kissed Tamiya back.

They all glanced up as the kitchen door opened, letting in a brief spray on sunshine and a wave of bitter cold before it was quickly closed again. Germaine grinned as he lowered the hood of his cloak. "Up and awake I see. You look a lot better than you did last night."

"Yes, thanks for getting me home." Ira smiled warmly at Germaine. "I feel much better after a good ten hours of sleep, a long hot bath, and a day of relaxing."

"I'm guessing you want a turn," Dietricht's tone was dry.

Germaine half-shrugged, grin undimmed. "To be fair, you had him all morning."

"Alright, alright." Dietricht pressed his lips briefly to Ira's neck, drew in a deep breath, and unwrapped his arms from around him. Germaine sat next to him on the bench, patted his thigh, and Ira stood, blushing slightly, and changed laps.

"You're cold," he said, wrapping his arms around himself, Germaine's arms wrapping around him a moment later.

"And you're nice and warm." Germaine kissed him. "These last four days – I'm not used to you being away so much."

"It was necessary, but I hope it doesn't happen again any time soon." Ira shook his head. "But it's a small price to pay for the ability to acquire agents in the midst of our enemies."

"I'm still worried about how much blood is just a little – how big of a dab are we talking about, Ira?" Dietricht was frowning again.

 _That_ got a number of glances from everyone in the room.

"Whose blood?" Mikhev asked, walking in from the hallway.

"Mine." Ira shrugged, trying to keep things casual. "I just prick a finger, and then really it's just a couple of good-sized drops. It's not like most of you haven't lost more blood than that. It's a small price to pay."

"Ira." Germaine's tone was just the slightest bit unhappy.

"It's to keep all of us safe. Well, _safer_." Ira put his hands on Germaine's shoulders, looking him in the eyes. "This will help us. _Enormously._ Trust me."

"I do." Germaine kissed him and then glanced at Dietricht. "I'm with you on this one. We'll see how much blood this will actually cost."

"A _dab,_ " Ira said, becoming mildly exasperated.

"We can wash a knife in boiling water," Soong said. "That should keep it clean and reduce the likelihood of infection."

"Thank you, Soong." Ira gave her a nod.

"Technically I'm supposed to protect you as much as Panashri," she replied with a shrug. "But June and Jane swear up and down they're more than capable of keeping us hidden from the gnolls. It may not even be necessary to go through this Thrall stuff. If there's too much blood required and they're as good as they say, we should be fine anyway."

June and Jane were the brownies Ira had invoked, male and female respectively. Naming them had been part of the process of manifesting them. As far as housekeeping went, they fulfilled those duties admirably, June for the quarters Ira's team shared with Dietricht's, and Jane for the quarters Germaine's team occupied.

"You're blowing this all out of proportion." Ira was starting to feel downright testy.

"You're right, Ira. I think what we need is to relax a little and blow off some steam. Germaine." Dietricht's tone was suspiciously casual. "I'm pretty sure the bath is empty right now. I was thinking the three of us . . ."

Germaine hooked an arm under Ira's knees, other arm around his back, and stood, cradling him, the gleam in his eyes matching the one that had appeared in Dietricht's.

Ira's irritation vanished in a flood of anticipation only slightly tempered by a little trepidation. Dietricht _had_ worn him out completely last time, and now Germaine would be in on it as well, but the sex had been absolutely _phenomenal_ , and this time he'd had plenty of rest instead of it being after a full day's efforts. He'd also be certain to sleep well.

He might even take a nap before dinner.

No sooner had Dietricht shut and bolted the door to the bath behind them than Germaine kissed him, lowered him to his feet, and kissed him more deeply, mouth insistent, tongue sweeping in the moment Ira yielded and opened, big hands holding Ira tight against him, one at the small of his back, the other kneading his buttocks. A second set of large, callused hands tugged up the hem of Ira's shirt and caressed his ribs and flanks, a hot mouth closing on the side of his neck.

"Let's get him undressed," Dietricht rasped, fingers sliding under Ira's waistband.

"Let me. Turns me on," Germaine replied, tone husky.

His fingers were suddenly at the hem of Ira's shirt, tugging up, and he knelt, following the retreating fabric up Ira's belly with his mouth, up his chest, up past his mouth and nose but holding it in place over his eyes, capturing Ira's raised hands with one of his own, mouth closing once more on Ira's. If Ira had harbored any doubts about Germaine enjoying being in control just as much as Dietricht, that would have been enough to make the similarity plain.

More heat than just that from the steamy air was flushing over his skin, sliding through his veins, spreading through his body from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes, stoked by the caresses of two sets of large hands, the wet, hot kisses of two mouths on his mouth, on his throat, on his arms and chest and belly and back blissfully maddening, the faint scrape of the stubble on Dietricht's face and the brush of the short beard on Germaine's distinct but both pleasurable.

The shirt came off and Germaine pulled Ira to him once more with another conquering kiss, lifting him off the ground with one arm around his ribs, the other sliding down the back of his trousers, fingers delving into Ira's valley, rubbing over his entrance. Germaine lifted Ira higher, and Ira braced himself on Germaine's shoulders as Germaine kissed the hollow of his chest, that hand had been exploring a moment ago tugging Ira's trousers down off of his hips, over his legs, his knees, his calves, his ankles, letting them fall to the floor. Manhandling was also clearly high on Germaine's list of enjoyable activities – yet another trait out of a great many that he shared with Dietricht as well.

Dietricht's mouth was on Ira's back, hands going to his buttocks and then his thighs as they were bared, gripping behind his knees and lifting, taking part of his weight. Germaine lowered him until their mouths met once more and then pulled back slightly, light gray eyes brilliant with ardor. "Hold on to Dietricht for just a minute, sweetheart."

Ira did as he was bid, turning to put his arms around Dietricht's shoulders, getting a potent kiss as Dietricht shifted his arms so that he was cradling Ira, and took his weight from Germaine.

A moment later Germaine's slick finger was delving once more into Ira's cleft, massaging his sphincter, rubbing gently at first and then with increasing pressure over and across the ring of tight muscle. Ira opened to him, and Germaine's finger slid in, up. His other hand gently took hold of Ira's jaw, bringing his mouth around for a kiss, and one finger became two, both of them going to that nub of flesh within Ira's body, turning the heat of pleasure already blazing in his body into a raging inferno.

Two fingers became three. Ira was moaning into Germaine's mouth, Germaine's arm around his ribs. Germaine's fingers withdrew, and suddenly he was lifting Ira from Dietricht's arms, arm sliding under Ira's knees, bracing Ira's back against his chest.

Germaine didn't relinquish Ira's mouth, adjusting the way he was holding him. Ira felt the bulbous head of Germaine's cock, just as massive, thick, and long as Dietricht's, press against his entrance. He opened to it as much as he could, felt it press up into him, widening him, like a rod of more heat, fanning the flames raging within. The head of Germaine's phallus slid in, and Ira cried out into Germaine's mouth.

Slowly but steadily, Germaine pressed upward into Ira even as he lowered him further onto his manhood, inch by inch, until he was all the way inside.

Dietricht had backed off, but Ira caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye, the big redhead stroking his own cock and watching, expression intent.

Germaine pulled slowly almost all the way out, slid in again, and gradually picked up the pace until his was fucking Ira briskly and steadily. Searing, blissful heat was rising up inside Ira, building, growing hotter and hotter, as Germaine withdrew and thrust in again and again, sweet flames gradually consuming Ira, transforming him from within. He lost track of everything but that steadily growing heat, his body possessed by it, held against the furnace that was Germaine's powerfully muscular body, his will subsumed, lost to desire.

With each thrust, a little more of Ira blazed up into brilliant life, ecstasy having driven everything else completely out of his mind except for Germaine, until every part of him was alight with that unyielding, relentless heat.

Ira submitted completely, gave himself wholly over, relinquishing all control. The heat within exploded into an all-consuming conflagration, eradicating everything. When Ira came back to himself, he was limp against Germaine's shoulder, the liquid warmth within proof that Germaine had climaxed as well.

"Now that – that was worth waiting for," Germaine said, voice rough with exertion, broad, chiseled chest heaving against Ira's back.

"Tell me about it," Dietricht said, stepping forward and kissing Ira on the mouth.

Ira did end up needing a nap before dinner. By the time the two of them were finished taking turns in him he was almost utterly exhausted, but he was also utterly satisfied.

It was Germaine that he woke up to, and Germaine that advised him that Miguel had already healed him. Ira made a point of discreetly thanking Miguel after the meal.

"We could tell the two of them were going at you pretty hard," Miguel said with an awkward half-shrug, blushing slightly.

Ira decided to leave it at that.

They assembled the next morning: seventeen adventurers and two brownies. June and Jane didn't look bored exactly. If anything they looked rather calm. If the cold bothered them at all, dressed as they were in long, sleeveless tunics of woven clover and pennywort, hair braided with grass, pointed ears bare, it didn't show. Ira hoped that the two of them performed as well as advertised.

Their first catch of the day was a trio of gnolls with great travel rucks on their backs. Two were dead in moments, the third under Ira's Charm spell before he could take more than a few steps. June and Jane led them to a little hollow, and Ira began his preparations as the others sorted through the contents of the rucks.

The process itself wasn't terribly difficult. The first part was simply lading an object with a sort of magical framework that would absorb the enchantment he placed on it. The second part was what called for blood. Mindful of the fact that he might well need to use his fingers later, Ira used the tip of the knife Soong had insisted on boiling to pierce the side of his ring finger on his left hand, drawing a large bead of blood from it.

Hartman was the name Ira had given the gnoll, another name from somewhere out of his past that he no longer recalled the reason for or history behind. Hartman looked up as Ira drew near with the dagger.

"Stick out your tongue, Hartman," Ira instructed.

Hartman complied, and Ira held the knife over the gnoll's tongue, giving it a brief shake to get it to drop onto the wet pink muscle.

"Swallow," Ira said, putting the knife away and squeezing out a second bead of blood. He looked up and caught Dietricht and Germaine both watching him intently, _almost_ frowning but not quite, Mikhev and Panashri's expressions a little further away only a little less grim.

The second bead of blood went onto the simple round stone that Ira had prepared. Two incantations followed – the first to move the enchantment so that it was housed in the stone, and the second to seal it in so that it would be permanent.

The crystal representing the bound will of his charmed servitor that Ira was accustomed to having in his mind vanished with the first. For a moment, Ira just watched Hartman, but the gnoll just continued to look back at him with that same expectant stare. He finished the second.

"Hartman," Ira said, watching the gnoll's ears perk up. "Put one hand on your head and the other on your belly, and turn around in a circle."

Hartman did as he was bid without missing a beat.

The spells evidently had worked exactly as promised, incantations and preparations all told taking no more than twenty minutes total.

Ira wrapped a length of gauze around his finger, slipped his glove back on, and looked at the others. "Success," he said simply.

They ambushed a group of six gnolls carrying more rucks, and Joker joined them, the Thrall creation process going off without a hitch again.

It was after they'd ambushed a cart and then another small ox-drawn wagon and Cowboy and Animal Mother had joined them that June and Jane proved their worth with a vengeance, calling out a warning. No sooner were the wagon, the four gnolls, and all seventeen adventurers behind a copse of trees than another punitive strike force swept in.

Ira was feeling strangely winded, leaning against a tree, watching as thirty-odd gnolls prowled past no more than two hundred feet away without any sign of noticing the almost equally large group on their flank, the tracks already wiped away.

"You've used lots of magic," Jane said quietly next to him. "Perhaps you should let this group go."

Ira glanced at her in surprise.

"You do look a little beat, babe," Dietricht added after a moment, leaning in close to murmur in Ira's ear. "We need to get this load back to the cache anyway. You can rest up on the wagon."

Ira nodded after a moment. "No sense in pushing our luck," he agreed, feeling a little reluctant to just let the gnolls go when they likely had coin in their pouches, but acknowledging the wisdom of the others.

He waited until they'd gotten back to the old kennel to finish the last set of Thrall-making enchantments on Animal Mother, got up to go help the others finish up stashing the goods, and almost fell over, Animal Mother catching him before he could hit the ground and saying something in her strange, growling language.

"She's asking if you're alright," June said from where he'd been keeping watch nearby.

"I'm fine, but . . . you can understand them?" Ira asked, slightly puzzled.

"Words aren't the same for us as they are for you," June replied with a shrug.

"I'll be fine, thank you," Ira said to Animal Mother.

"I can find some white-thistle root – it'll give you back a little of your energy." June looked at Ira expectantly. "But I don't think you should do those spells any more today. You seem to be at about your limit."

"I – thank you." Maybe it was because he was suddenly so tired, but Ira was finding it a little bit incredible that June and Jane both had opinions and observations and were also voicing them. They'd been mostly quiet in Ortana, almost invisible presences keeping the dishes and the floors and hearths clean, helping with laundry and exterminating vermin, making beds and tending the homefires, all in exchange for a pittance of grain and a little of the leftovers from meals.

June nodded and was gone. Ira straightened, took a deep breath, and Animal Mother wrapped a rangy arm around him and helped him inside.

Thankfully it was Mikhev who spotted him first, because he only grimaced. "You look pretty much done in," he said, pausing with a sack over his shoulder.

"Yeah, evidently the Thrall enchantments take more out of me than I realized." Ira cleared his throat. "I'm just going to sit for a while, I think. June left to get an herb he said would give me some energy back. Also, interesting coincidence, apparently brownies can speak Gnoll."

"Huh." Mikhev's eyebrows rose. "Sounds better than relying on those pictograms. Those brownies sure are useful."

"Yes," Ira replied after a moment. "Quite useful." Perhaps it was his imagination playing tricks on his tired mind, but he thought there might have been the slightest hint of reproof in Mikhev's tone. Ira ignored it. The Thralls would eventually prove to be just as useful, he had no doubt.

Xiang-Min came and sat with him without saying anything, just humming something, rocking slightly next to him, and it wasn't too long before June returned with the white-thistle root. It was cold and had a sort of milky taste, sap oozing out when he bit down. He could feel a little of his strength returning.

"Thank you – both of you." He glanced at Xiang-Min and June.

Xiang-Min shrugged. "It wasn't much, but hopefully it helped a little."

The root was chewy, but it gave him enough energy that he could actually stand. When Soong suggested they take their lunch break just a little early since it was only a half-hour to midday, he didn't object though.

To Ira's mild surprise, Oboro had actually brought along little boxes with rice clumps, chopped carrots, little slices of fish, and pickled ginger for the brownies, practically brownie-sized lunch boxes really, which they rather seemed to enjoy if the speed with which they ate was any indicator.

"So those four," Yedani said as they were headed back towards the Hills of Bowen. "You'll send them back to their tribes then, and see how well they're able to accomplish their tasks?"

"Yes, I won't exhaust myself again by trying to create more Thralls today," Ira replied dryly, giving her a sideways glance that said he fully understood the true nature of the question.

She just nodded without even a hint of a blush.

He didn't send any of the gnoll Thralls back immediately. For one thing, they made handy porters. But he also didn't attempt to create any more for the rest of the day. He'd discovered his limit, and planned to keep to only two a day going forward, probably one in the morning and then one in the afternoon assuming he had strength enough left over.

Their cover story was simple – when he sent them back it was with the basic explanation that they'd been captured and interrogated, which was actually sort of true since he'd used June or Jane alternately as translators over the course of the afternoon to ask the Thralls more detailed questions. They could amend it however would make it the most plausible. Obviously they'd tell their fellows that the humans hadn't been able to make hide nor hair of what they'd said, which was also sort of true, and the humans had released them after making nonverbal threats.

Ira was aware that it would take time for his Thralls to collect useful information, and more time for it to be relayed back, but he was confident his efforts would pay off. All four were marked with a crude, makeshift brand to ensure that they'd be easily recognizable, and also to lend some credence to the story about the interrogation.

Over the next four days that followed, Ira continued to add to his force of Thralls. June and Jane assured him that they'd have no trouble slipping back into the Hills of Bowen, into the gnoll camps themselves in fact, to make contact with his growing cadre of gnoll double agents to collect information while Ira and the others took a few days in town to once again sell off the goods they'd acquired and improve armor, weapons, and skills.

That fifth day following they remained in Ortana to begin doing exactly that. Work on the Mastiff's Prowl had already begun in earnest. The former inn already had its main door to the common room replaced, and Ira was assured that the courtyard gate would be done within a handful of days, no more. The roof repairs were very nearly complete as well.

By now, Mikhev, Dietricht, and Germaine's armor was reinforced now, and about the strongest the blacksmiths of Ortana could make it while retaining enough flexibility to move. Oboro's armor was now scalemail like Tamiya's, and both of them had their armor and helmets finished with a hard, protective lacquer for extra durability and stopping power. Oboro had also acquired a genuine katana.

Cassim had acquired a long-sleeved jacket of studded leather like Kanoha's, and both now wielded composite bows made of horn, wood, and sinew for maximum strength. Kanoha also acquired a white wolf pup, incongruously cute, utterly adorable in its playfulness, a distinct contrast with its owner's usual stoic demeanor, ostensibly to raise as a companion in tracking and battle. As much time as Soong spent with it however, Ira was half-certain Kanoha had bought it for her as much as for him.

Soong herself had made an investment in more protective garb, commissioning a long coat of thick, snowy white padded leather that covered her from shoulders to ankles, the long sleeves coming down to her knuckles. Luisa had followed suit, hers in pale rose instead. Miguel had gone a step further and actually gotten a scalemail hauberk similar to Oboro's that came down to his knees.

Yedani still wore leather armor, but she'd also bought a deep, enveloping gray mantle that covered her head and shoulders, and in addition to the two very fine long knives she already had, she'd also purchased a number of throwing knives – throwing knives she'd become _very_ good with.

Uktemmbo hadn't done much to improve his own garb – still cured hides – but his double-bladed axe had gotten a major upgrade, the haft and blades now braced with steel, and he'd bought a long, very brightly-colored sash in hues of brilliant yellow, loud orange, and bright red that he somehow managed to carry off without looking too particularly odd. He'd also acquired a nasty jagged-toothed knife that was practically a saw, and a rather hefty throwing axe.

Xiang-Min acquired a lute, and to hear Germaine tell of it she spent nearly every waking minute playing it. Her previously tight, basic garb had been replaced with clothing that was less revealing, a little more frilly. Her new velvet coat was pink and embroidered with red gladiolus, poppy, and peony blossoms, her knee-length pleated navy skirt embroidered with purple larkspur, clematis, and orchid blossoms over black leggings and knee-high brown boots with fringed tops, and she'd bought herself a thick, shaggy blue scarf.

Neither Ira nor Panashri had changed their garb much at all, though Panashri had once again traded up for a newer, more improved staff – this one with the wood carved into a variety of interlocking hands from about two-thirds of the way up all the way to the top. The fingers of the topmost hand were curved over those underneath and adorned with three thick brass rings set with large, flat gems, one pale purple iolite, one aquamarine, and one of soft green malachite. The workmanship was undeniably very impressive, but the artistic motif was also just a little creepy.

Trent's coat was now knee-length and dark bronze, his shirt and vest lighter hues of the same, and for the life of him, Ira wasn't sure why the blond Mage persisted in wearing tight hose even in the winter, doe brown now to go with the rest. He'd also taken to wearing pinafores of white lace which came at no small expense from merchants traveling into Ortana from the larger city of Rumurie to the south, with a pin set with carnelian. Still, he'd continued to expand his repertoire of spells, and his staff was now golden oak nearly the shade of his blond hair and carven with the shapes of cresting waves curling around sunbursts, capped with a many-pointed bronze star, so Ira didn't raise any complaints.

Martine had replaced his simple bronze stanchion with one of steel nearly equally as plain. His concession to the cold weather was a thick, calf-length leather coat of dark gray and a fur-lined hat about the same color, dreadlocks now tied back with a deep blue ribbon, the rest of his garb hardly changed except for being of a better cut and quality.

"I was a fool not to take your advice regarding the brownies far sooner," Ira said plainly that afternoon when he walked into the Guild Hall.

His guildmaster grinned and folded his arms. "Proved useful, did they?"

"Very useful," Ira admitted without any hesitation or even so much as a blush. "What else do you have to teach me, Master?"

They'd taken to having dinner at the Mastiff's Prowl after the artisans and their assistants were gone, bringing food from the kitchens in their quarters to share for the meal, sitting in front of the great fireplace in the common room. There they could all sit inside, flames giving out plentiful heat with the new door now keeping the frigid winter chill at bay without.

Ira continued to share a bed with Dietricht. Germaine hadn't challenged the arrangement, but he wasn't shy about appropriating Ira as a lap-warmer and putting his hands on him whenever they were together. He hadn't yet broached the subject of new sleeping arrangements with them once the renovations were complete. He was still deciding exactly how he wanted to approach that. One the one hand, if they were able to vent their lust on a more regular basis, the physical toll might be a little less intense than it was right now on the nights when they _were_ able to express it.

"So Ira – I was thinking it'd been oh, at least a couple of weeks since we've had any new blood." Mikhev's tone was jocular. He was sitting next to Panashri, firelight on half his face with the other half cast in shadow giving him an aspect that was just the slightest bit unsettling. "Not that we haven't had good luck with people coming to join us, but it couldn't hurt to try active recruiting."

Ira considered that for a moment, and then nodded. "It sounds like you have prospects in mind."

Mikhev half-shrugged. "Maybe one or two. You hear things over at Shelly's – meet people, you know?"

Ira considered telling him to stop beating around the bush and just get to the point, except that he was full, warm, and not really inclined to take this particular bull by the horns at the moment. Actually, that might well be what Mikhev was expecting. Ira decided to take it easy instead, let Mikhev work his way to the point, the inclination born half as much from faint curiosity as mild laziness, glancing up at the dim, flickering firelight on the worked stone of the walls.

"Do you?" he asked, just a touch dryly, looking back at Mikhev. "And what sort of people do you meet?"

Mikhev blinked, and then grinned suddenly, a twinkle in his eye that said he had an idea of what was going through Ira's head. He _did_ seem to be a rather perceptive when it came to people, all things considered. "Well, there are a couple that I've had my eye on that I thought would fit in particularly well."

"Let me guess – their martial artist was an idiot and died fairly early on." Ira rolled his eyes. "How many times have we heard this story again?"

"Ah, but that's what makes one of our potential recruits interesting. He's a martial artist _but_ he's also not an idiot."

Ira blinked, returning his full attention to Mikhev. "I'm not sure I can believe that's true."

"But you have to admit – you're intrigued by the possibility," Mikhev replied smugly.

"That or terrified by the implications of such an aberration existing in the world." Ira raised his eyebrows and gave Mikhev a sardonic little smile. "Alright, yes. I'm intrigued. _If_ he's real. Which I'm still not convinced of, by the way."

"Come with me and find out. He'll be at Shelly's tonight." Mikhev cocked his head slightly, lifting his hands, palms up. "It's not like you've got anything more entertaining planned after dinner. Uktemmbo has the bath."

"Not to put a damper on your amazing discovery, but we're already over capacity on bed space," Germaine interjected. "So unless he's got other arrangements, it's kind of hard to put him up."

"You are welcome to join me in the bath, Ira." Uktemmbo grinned. "Germaine and Dietricht as well, if they wish. There is no reason you should not have entertainment after dinner."

Germaine and Dietricht exchanged looks.

"We'll talk it over," Dietricht said, tone even, leaving Ira to wonder if in fact he was going to start having three men inside of him each time they reserved the bath. If that was the case then the bed situation was _definitely_ going to get more complicated.

Uktemmbo's eyebrows rose slightly, smile undimmed. "As you will." His gaze went back to Ira. "Ira?"

"They're in charge of that," Ira said simply.

Uktemmbo's brow furrowed for a moment, but his grin only widened. "I see."

Mikhev cleared his throat, probably recalling the way he had been bluntly propositioned himself by Uktemmbo in the bath, and looked back to Ira. "So, Shelly's after dinner while the three of them have a talk?"

"Go ahead, babe." Dietricht nodded. "We'll talk when you get back."

Mikhev glanced around. "Anyone else? Pana, dear?"

Panashri shook her head. "After this I'm heading back and staying in. It's too cold."

Mikhev's expression turned rueful. "There's nothing I can offer to make you reconsider?"

"No, but I'll have a hot kettle on the fire if you're back soon enough." Panashri gave him a small smile.

Mikhev glanced at Kanoha. "How about it?"

Kanoha shook his head. "If I leave Inoko alone with Soong too often he'll start to think he's a spoiled house pet."

Soong rolled her eyes and shrugged. "He's just too cute. I can't help it."

It ended up being only Ira and Mikhev making the walk to Shelly's instead of heading back to their trainee quarters. Ira couldn't help but wonder how the discussion with Uktemmbo was going to turn out. On the one hand, Dietricht had initially been violently opposed to Uktemmbo fucking Ira. On the other hand, he'd come to an understanding with Germaine and ended up agreeing to the two of them sharing Ira, and both had been giving him very enthusiastic rogerings ever since. They clearly weren't nearly as close to Uktemmbo, nor as alike in temperament, Still, Ira couldn't shake the feeling that he'd have all three of them blowing their loads in his body in the near future.

He jumped, almost letting out a yelp as a hand closed on his butt and squeezed, turning to give Mikhev a startled look.

"It's just a _little_ bit insulting for you to go thinking about other guys when I'm right here," Mikhev said jovially, grin salacious, big hand squeezing again.

"I think the prospect of getting regularly plowed by another guy on top of the ones already doing it is enough to justify it." Ira shot Mikhev a mildly irritated look.

"Oh, it's going to happen," Mikhev said off-handedly. "Why worry about it though? Just enjoy it."

"Thanks," Ira rolled his eyes. "That's great advice."

"You're welcome," Mikhev said, still grinning as he finally let go.

Shelly's was crowded, not a single empty table in the place, air filled with the din of countless conversations and clanking and clunking tableware. Mikhev glanced around and put his hand on the small of Ira's back as he pointed to a small table in the back corner where a man wearing a knee-length black coat was sitting.

"That's him, there."

"All right, let's go chat with your mythical martial artist," Ira said dryly.


End file.
